Endurance
by sanevoodoo
Summary: A few years after the final battle with Voldemort, Fleur and Hermione both find themselves working at Hogwarts, having to deal with their past actions. All characters and settings belong to JK Rowling.
1. Chapter 1

Somehow she found herself back at Hogwarts, not entirely sure what had compelled her to accept the offer from Professor McGonagall. The castle brought back so many memories, both good and bad, although the bad memories were more recent and it still made her gut wrench to think upon them. So what on earth had possessed her to say yes? Hermione sighed, reluctant to admit even to herself that she felt restless. The war had been successfully fought, she had graduated top of her year and been inundated with job offers even before graduating. She had taken a job with the Ministry of Magic's defence council and despite having moved up the career rapidly in just a couple years, had eventually tired of the bureaucracy and red tape before each tiny progressive step could be made and had taken a job with a private defence firm for two years, a career which proved extremely satisfying and lucrative. But still, it was not enough.

She had been approached at the beginning of summer by Professor McGonagall who offered her the job of defence of the dark arts teacher and with barely five minutes consideration she had accepted it. The company had offered her more money, more resources, more staff on her team, but nothing they said convinced her to change her mind. As she saw the dull grey sky in the great hall she wondered if she would regret her decision to become a teacher. But even if she did, she was only contracted for a year, she could choose to move on after that if she so wished.

Walking around the empty castle, she was amazed at how much smaller it seemed now. It was still a huge castle, but wasn't the towering, cavernous building she remembered. It was amazing how much difference a few years could make. As she surveyed the Gryffindor common room, her fingers trailed along the threadbare edges of the comfy sofa almost seeing the lit fireplace and herself surrounded by her friends in the cold evenings. It took her a minute to ready herself before she entered the library, she wasn't sure why she needed to prepare herself, but the smell of books and old parchment immediately brought the calm feeling that she had always got from the room. She spied her old table at the back of the library and sat down in her old seat. The library had always been and still was a magnificent place to her. As she ran her fingers along the worn mahogany, fingers picking a trail across the dust, she uncovered her initials etched into the wood. The only time in her life she had ever vandalised anything, she smiled at the memory of guilt and excitement. But then she remembered the initials etched below hers, still covered in dust. She got up and left the library.

It lifted her heart to see all the students excited to be back at Hogwarts, chattering and gossiping. She enjoyed watching the terrified first years being sorted into their houses, smiling at the memory of Ron being worried that the sorting involved fighting a troll. It was certainly strange being sat that the high table, but it afforded her a clear view of the entire hall. Professor McGonagall stood up as people were finishing off their desserts of apple crumble and custard and a delicious fruit trifle, and the chatter soon stopped as people looked towards the headmistress.

"I'm very glad to see that everyone is back safely from their summer holidays. We have a few new additions to the teaching staff this year. I'm sure some of you will recognise the new members, they are great assets to the magic community. Hermione Granger, stand up girl, is the new professor for the defence of the dark arts." Chattering had erupted in the hall, no doubt they recognised her name as one being connected to Harry, it was always the case. The headmistress raised her voice and carried on as if she didn't notice the whispering,

"and the new professor for potions is," she looked down the table, a slightly irritated look appearing on her face, "late."

Hermione laughed to herself, wondering who would dare risk being late on their first day knowing they had Professor McGonagall to report to. Suddenly there was a commotion in the back of the hall as a tall, slight figure walked in gracefully, black travelling cloak glistening with raindrops, hood casting their face in shadow whilst a few locks of long blonde hair fell forward. Hermione automatically reached for her wand as did some of the other teachers, habits learned in the war being hard to lose. However, the headmistress stood up in greeting,

"Ah, there you are."

"I'm very sorry professor, my sister Gabrielle had 'er first child last night." Hermione froze at the sound of the familiar voice.

"This is the new potions teacher, Professor Fleur Delacour," the head mistress announced as the newcomer pulled down her hood. Her long blonde hair glimmered in the candle light, shadows accenting the delicate structure of her face, eyes as blue as the ocean.

"Bonjour, I am glad to meet you all. I am most looking forward to be teaching and working with you all." As she turned to acknowledge the teachers, her eyes flared open and her breath caught in her chest at the sight of Hermione, who sat that look there with the colour drained out of her. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes, _what the hell was she doing here_? She watched Fleur take a deep breath before she acknowledged the pupils, the male population responding with eager talk and puppy dog eyes. Hermione scowled, _some things never changed_.

The students began to disperse back to their common rooms and Fleur found herself surrounded by the teaching staff who all greeted her warmly. However, the only person she wanted to see wasn't there. She spied the back of the brunette's head leaving towards the Gryffindor sector of the castle. No one had mentioned that Hermione was going to be teaching here. She couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing.

It was a week before Hermione finally had to talk to Fleur. Or rather Fleur gave her little choice, walking into her classroom at lunchtime as soon as the last student had rushed out. Hermione couldn't think of any excuse to leave, the uncomfortable feeling of panic welling inside.

" 'ello 'Ermione. 'ow 'ave you been?" Fleur asked softly, her heart hammering in her chest and hoped it didn't show in her voice. She had been gathering courage all week to talk to Hermione, but she never saw the defence of dark arts teacher, not even for meals as it appeared Hermione took her meals elsewhere.

"I've been well, thank you. Youself?" The stiff, overly polite reply caused Fleur's heart to plummet. Fleur couldn't read her face anymore, Hermione had gotten better at hiding her emotions. She sighed internally, the war had surprising costs.

"I 'ave been good, thank you. I did not know you were going to be teaching, I thought you were still working with ze defence group." Hermione found her heart leap painfully at the thought that Fleur may have been following her life.

"I wasn't told that you were going to be here either. Professor McGonagall didn't mention that there was going to another new member of staff. "

"Would you 'ave accepted if you knew I was going to be working 'ere?" Fleur felt as if her heart would beat its way out of her chest as she awaited for the answer that never came. Hermione looked away, her face carefully expressionless. Fleur reached out to touch her on the arm, but the moment she made contact, Hermione pulled away, quickly gathering her parchments and books and tossing them into her bag.

"I have to read over my lesson plan for this afternoon. I need to go." Again, Fleur watched the back of Hermione as the brunette left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione!" Harry laughed as he found himself encased in a tight hug, returning it with equal enthusiasm.

"Let me take a look at the new defence of dark arts professor!" He held her at an arm's length, a niggling feeling developing as he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the hollow cheeks. Still, he knew that there was no point in pushing her, she would always talk when she felt ready. "Come on, let me get you a butterbeer and you can tell me how the teaching career is going!" They entered the warmth of the Three Broomsticks and there was a momentary silence as the other patrons saw it was Harry Potter; he was grateful when they all resumed their conversations even if they did try to surreptitiously glance at him.

"My my, it's been a while since I saw the two of you here! The same old?" Madame Rosmerta smiled widely at them both, holding up two bottles of butterbeer. The best friends found a quiet corner in the pub and settled down, enjoying the first mouthful of foamy sweetness from their tankards.

"You look tired, have the kids been keeping you up with practical jokes?" he teased. "You do realise you now wield the power, you could drown them in homework!"

"Believe me, I've been tempted a few times! But I'm actually enjoying the teaching, it's rewarding when you see them actually learning things! Anyway, how've you been? What've you been up to? How's Ginny?" Harry decided to let her blatant attempt at changing the subject pass.

"Ginny's great, her quidditch team are in the semi finals of the league next week! I've been in Bulgaria the past couple of months, doing hush hush work. You know what the Ministry are like. But I was working with Krum, he's a good guy, I'd never really known that before."

"Viktor?"

"Yup. He told me to ask after you. I think he still has a thing for you, so you know, if you were still interested..."he raised his eyebrow at her, grinning. He laughed as Hermione pulled a face.

"So come on, tell me what it's like being back at Hogwarts. Are all the old teachers there? Does it still look the same? I haven't been back since, well...you know...the final battle." He took a swig of his butterbeer, willing the sweetness to stop him remembering.

"It's pretty much the same, although it doesn't seem as big as when we were there as students. But I think that's just because we were so much younger. They've created a plaque in the great hall, it remembers all those that fell at the final battle." Their eyes met briefly, both remembering. "Oh, and the staff are all still there, teaching the same subjects. Strange really, you always think that things will change when you leave and your own life changes, but some things seem to stay the same."

"Who's taken over Snape's old job?" Harry was shocked to see his best friend pale slightly at the question.

"Oh, yes, I forgot to mention. She's new to teaching this year too, like me. It's Fleur. Fleur Weasley née Delacour."

"Fleur's at Hogwarts? We all wondered where she went after the war ended! I personally thought she went back to France. Who knew she was so close by after all that time!"

"What do you mean where she went after the war ended? You're her brother in law, surely you'd know! I mean, I know Ginny isn't her biggest fan..."

"Ohhh...you didn't hear did you Hermione? You haven't kept in touch with the Weasleys since you broke up with Ron that night."

Hermione put her face in her hands, a painful red blush rising to her face.

"How could I face any of them, I mean, I finished with him the night he lost his brother! I still feel absolutely terrible about that, and I've not had the gall to face any of the Weasleys since. How is he anyway? Ron that is."

"He's doing well. Engaged to Lavender Brown actually. They bumped into each other again a couple of years ago, and apparently rediscovered their feelings for each other." Harry shrugged, smiling. "She's not quite as errr...emotional as she used to be, and they're happy. You should get in contact with him. He misses you, you know?" Seeing the horrified look in her eyes, he quickly added, "Not in that way. He misses one of his best friends." Hermione raised her eyebrow at him skeptically.

"Hermione, it's been over four years, he left the anger and hurt behind him a long time ago." Hermione sighed, she did miss her friendship with the lanky redhead. She just wasn't sure how she could get in touch with him again after what she had done.

"I'll give it some thought. I do miss him." She peered into her empty tankard and waved her arm at Madame Rosmerta who brought them over another round.

"I'm sorry, you were saying before?"

"Oh yeah. About a week after you and Ron ended, Bill and Fleur got divorced." He had to pound her on the back as she gasped and spluttered on her drink at the news.

"Divorced?" she managed croakily.

"Yeah. I don't think anyone saw that coming. Ginny told me that Fleur went back to France after we resumed our search for the Horcruxes, after what happened to you." He nodded apologetically for mentioning her torture, feeling guilty for the sick looking colour she had turned.

"Are you ok, Hermione? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"It's ok, it was a long time ago. Carry on." Seeing the look of distress on her face, he doubted that she had fully recovered from what Bellatrix Lestrange had done to her.

"Umm...yes, they said she left rather suddenly, probably a family thing. She came back a couple of days before the final battle and Ginny said that she was acting kinda off, but no one had any time to find out why. And then a week later, Bill turns up newly divorced. Even now he apparently doesn't have a clue what happened between them, he was just heartbroken. To this day no one is allowed to mention Fleur's name to Mrs. Weasley. So at least you know that you're not on top of Mrs. Weasley's hate list! Hermione, are you sure you're ok? I was just joking about the hate list."

Hermione's skin had taken on a green tinge. She smiled weakly,

"It's just a tad warm here. I'm just going to use the ladies."

She rushed into the toilets, and splashed some icy water on her face. She learnt against the sink, looking at herself in the mirror, the water dripping down her face. She could feel the butterbeer churning in her stomach, and willed herself not to be sick. _There was no way that it was a coincidence, Fleur leaving_ _so soon after, was it?_ She still couldn't process the fact that Fleur was divorced, she hadn't said anything. _Not that I really gave her a chance to say much._

Hermione went back out and found Harry laughing with Madame Rosmerta. She couldn't tell him what had happened that week, not yet. She wasn't even sure that she fully understood.

"Harry, do you mind if we call it a day. I'm not feeling great, but nothing Madame Pomfrey can't fix. But do you mind if we do this again another time?"

"No, no, of course not. Come on, I'll walk you back to the castle"

"No, it's ok, stay here Harry. I think the fresh air will do me some good anyway. Besides, I think there's someone here you'll want to speak to," she said, looking towards the door. A huge smile crossed Harry's face as he saw Hagrid enter the building. She bent down and kissed Harry on the cheek, giving him a quick hug. As she went to pull away, he held her for a moment.

"Hermione, I don't know what's going on, but when you're ready, I'm here to listen." Hermione paused, gave him a quick squeeze and turned away quickly, not wanting him to see the grateful tears in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was doing the final patrol of the night, treading along corridors now as familiar to her as her own room. Save for the occasional movements of the inhabitants of the paintings, there was no one around at this time of night. She herself was tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep; memories occurred as dreams and they left her even more tired and agitated the next day. She was thinking rearranging her meeting with Harry. They hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk earlier and before that it'd been quite a few months since she had last seen him, and whilst they exchanged owls frequently, she still wasn't sure how to tell him about what was happening with her at Hogwarts. She had never told anyone else what had happened and wasn't sure that she wanted to begin now.

As she was lost in her thought she didn't notice the arm that reached out from the wall and pulled her violently into a room hidden in the wall. She whirled around pulling her wand from her robes in an instant, attacking with a non verbal stunning spell. The spell was deflected just as quickly, and her face blanched as she saw her attacker, before screaming angrily,

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? I could have seriously hurt you!"

"You thought that I would not be prepared for your attack? Besides, zis is the only way that I thought I could make you talk to me." Hermione had not been prepared for the cold tone that underlay Fleur's words.

"I can't….I just can't."

"Can't what? Can't take a meal with me in the same room, can't talk to me, can't see me? Mon dieu, why not?"

"You know why not!"

_Hermione was sat in the darkened room, looking out at the view of the coast. The cottage was quiet, everyone else had left earlier to stay in London for a few days for a strategy meeting. Hermione had been left behind to recuperate from her encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange, as the faint twinges in her arm reminded her. A knock on the door startled her and as she turned around, the door opened to reveal Fleur carrying a large steaming bowl. _

"_I didn't realise you were still here, I thought you'd gone with everyone else."_

"_Of course not, someone needed to be 'ere to keep an eye on you. Are you 'ungry? I made some bouillabaisse. I know that you like it." Hermione didn't really have much of an appetite, but she didn't want the older girl's efforts to go to waste. The bowl settled gentled on the table next to her, and she took a deep breath in, enjoying the appetising aroma._

"_I didn't realise you could cook." Fleur laughed, sitting down on the seat next to her._

"_I can't really. I can only make a few dishes, but I make them well I think," she laughed, giving Hermione a Gallic shrug. Hermione brought a spoonful to her mouth and tasted it, exclaiming in surprise as it touched her tongue._

"_It's wonderful. Thank you." She took a few more sips before remembering what Fleur had said. "How did you know I like bouillabaisse?"_

"_I 'eard you. When I was there for the Triwizard Tournament, that first night. 'ave you been to France many times?"_

"_My family used to go every other summer, it's beautiful over there. Do you miss it?"_

"_Oui. Very much. Even more I miss ma famille. But I came back…there was someone…"she trailed off, much to Hermione's surprise, a blush noticeable even in the dim light._

"_Bill?" _

"'_e is a good man." Hermione felt the stew churn in the hollow of her stomach at the answer. "Anyway, I shall let you eat your food in peace. Bonne nuit." Fleur silently left the room, the click of the door being the only sign of anyone leaving._

_Hermione closed her eyes, and rested her head on the back of the chair. She smiled sardonically to herself, it turned out that dating others, Fleur's marriage and even torture couldn't rid herself of her attraction towards Fleur. What she had initially dismissed as an adolescent, schoolgirl crush had developed over the years into a bone aching attraction. And she had done nothing about it. Not once had she voiced how she felt, she had never done anything to indicate that she felt anything more than friendship. The smell of the stew was a reminder of her cowardice, and it was making her feel nauseous. _

_She took the bowl downstairs to the kitchen, washed it and left it to dry on the draining board. The house was quiet, she could hear the creaking of the timber joints as the wind rattled outside and she found it soothing. A flicker of light from the living room caught her attention and she walked to the room to discover that a fire had been lit, and Fleur was sat at the window box, eyes closed. Hermione couldn't help but stare, Fleur was beautiful in the full glare of the sun, but there was something about seeing her in firelight that made Hermione's breath catch. She was unable to pull herself away even when the object of her desires opened her eyes and caught her staring. For a time that could have been a mere matter of seconds to a minute, their gazes did not waver. Hermione felt as though every secret she held could be seen, and she was surprised to see that there was longing and questions in the blue eyes. Hermione blinked, breaking eye contact, turned away, hating the way her longing could misinterpret a single look. She had taken just one step when she heard._

"_Bill wasn't ze one."_

"_Pardon?" Hermione turned around, unsure about what she had just heard._

"_Bill wasn't ze someone."Hermione felt as though time had stopped. She was acutely aware of her heart beating, the slight quiver in her limbs. _

"_I don't understand." _

_Fleur stood up and slowly walked towards her, not stopping until there was only an inch between their bodies. Blue eyes fixed on brown eyes, searching; Hermione could feel Fleur's breath against her lips. _

"_I think you do 'Ermione." Fleur closed the gap between their lips._


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **I'd just like to offer a quick note of thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story and to everyone who is reading it. I really appreciate it. Thank you.

* * *

><p>Fleur felt sick. The next question came out in a strangled whisper,<p>

"You regret what 'appened between us?" She didn't want to hear the answer, not if wasn't the one she wanted.

Hermione sat down heavily on a chair, all fight seeming to have deserted her. She lifted her head and looked directly in the French woman's eyes.

"No. How could I?"

"'Then I do not understand!" Fleur shouted, her imploring eyes blinking away angry tears.

"What begins in chaos ends in chaos. We hurt too many people because we were selfish, it was wrong for us to even start anything."

"But love is inherently selfish! I regret 'urting Bill, but would it 'ave been fairer on 'im if I 'ad stayed with him knowing that I could never feel the same way about 'im as 'e did about me?" Frustration emanated from her, her hand gestures wild.

Hermione looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I should not 'ave began anything with 'im at all, I know that and I am sorry about that. But I never realised...I did not think that you would ever...I was young and I tried to be who everyone thought I should be. But please, I know you understand."

Hermione did understand. She remembered the pressures of being young, when the world told you who you were, who you should be. Her telling herself that her feelings towards Ron were more than simple friendship. Trying to convince herself that her anger towards Fleur during the Triwizard tournament was because of her effect on Ron, not because of Fleur's effect on her. Giving up her first kiss to Viktor Krum because he was a good guy, someone most other girls would be attracted to. Cuddling up to Ron in the common room, telling herself she should be relaxed against the hard, muscular body that held her because everyone else in the room expected that. She understood.

"That doesn't make it right. We hurt people already. If we...we would hurt them all over again. I left Ron the night his brother was killed, you left Bill a week after his brother was killed, we were both so bloody selfish that we couldn't even take our time to comfort them! When they needed us the most. What kind of people are we? Can't you see that we stand to hurt them all over again? Everything we do together make it even more wrong!" She tried to dash away the tears from her face, but they just fell ceaselessly.

"Then why do you not regret what 'appened between us?"

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep, ragged breath before answering.

"I could never regret those three days. "

_Her body stiffened for a moment as she felt Fleur's lips brush her own. The kiss was gentle, the lips soft. Her shaking hand stopped Fleur pulling away completely, her cheek smooth beneath her quivering hand. She was close enough to see the tiny speck of grey in the sea of blue of the left eye. She looked down towards the older woman's lips, her index finger tracing the outline. Fleur gasped at the sensation of Hermione running her finger along her lips. She had never felt so vulnerable before, and even more frighteningly, she had never felt so safe before. She didn't dare to move, afraid to lose the brunette's touch. Then Hermione leaned in and kissed her._

_That night they learnt what it was like to constantly desire the touch of another; a deep, gnawing need for skin to skin contact be it their fingers interlinking, or more. They whispered sweet nothings, offered up hidden truths. _

_Night turned into day. Day slipped into night. They both knew they had three days before they had to confront anything. It was the one of many things they did not discuss, did not want to discuss, would not discuss. As the hours slipped by the kisses became more urgent, the touches more demanding. Neither wanted to sleep, they didn't want to lose the time to dreaming when, for once, reality was all they wanted. _

"_I'd give up my soul before I give up these three days."_

_Then they returned. They returned bringing in their loud voices, their plans, their presence. Bill had walked in, eyes searching for his wife, lighting up when he found her. He swept her up, wrapped her up in his large, muscular arms, pressed his rough lips against hers, his stubble scratching her face, his male scent cloying in her nose. Nothing about it felt right, what was once bearable was no longer. She didn't see the look of anguish that crossed Hermione's features. Fleur pulled away, desperately trying to catch Hermione's eyes. But all she saw was the brunette striding away, Harry walking with her talking about his plan. They were gone within the hour. _

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. There isn't anything to talk about. You have to let this go Fleur, it can't happen!" Hermione stood up abruptly and began to walk towards the door.

"The same way that you 'ave obviously let it go, non?" her accent thickening in anger.

Hermione paused at the mocking tone. Then she carried on walking, until she felt herself wrenched backwards and felt Fleur's lips crashing down on her own. This was no tender kiss, no softness, no gentleness. Hermione struggled and tried to push the blonde away, but she was a lot stronger than her frame hinted. She felt strong hands grasp her wrists, the small bones grating. And she found herself responding, leaning in to the kiss, deepening it, biting. She felt the pressure around her wrists released, Fleur's fingers sliding up to entangle with her own. Then Fleur pulled away, her breathing ragged,

"And you say that we should let it go? This time, you will not be ze one to walk away." The bitterness was evident in the Frenchwoman's voice, leaving Hermione no chance to respond before she had left.


	5. Chapter 5

"Professor Granger, it's nice of you to join us for breakfast. I don't think I've seen you at any of the mealtimes since the welcome feast." Hermione smiled at the headmistress,

"I've just been busy. Trying to make sure my lesson plans were right and keeping up with the marking."

"Yes, yes, teaching is important, but you have to look after yourself. Why, you already look as though you've lost weight and it wouldn't do to have you fall ill would it? You're still as hard a worker as you were when you were a student aren't you, probably more so since I remember seeing you at mealtimes then," professor McGonagall chuckled.

"Maybe you should see Poppy, I'm sure she'd be able to brew you up a draft to bring some colour back to your cheeks."

"I'll be fine, I'll look after myself a bit better I promise."

As she waited for her breakfast to appear, an owl swooped in, dropping a letter in front of her. She smiled, recognising Harry's scrawl on the envelope.

_**Hermione,**_

_**Hope you're feeling better. Was thinking about what we discussed and I've started the bridge building process. Will you meet me and Ron for a drink in the Three Broomsticks on Saturday? He really wants to. It's been years Hermione, think about it and let me know. Don't work too hard,**_

_**Love,**_

_**Harry**_

Hermione read the letter twice before sighing and folding the letter and placing it in her robes. She supposed that she shouldn't have been so shocked that Harry had spoke to Ron already, it had been awkward for him the past few years. But she wasn't sure whether or not it would be a good idea to see Ron again, it could just end up one long awkward drink, or even worse, they could end up fighting and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the hateful things that Ron had said to her again, even if they were deserved. But even needing to make a decision about meeting Ron couldn't take her mind off what had plagued her all night.

"_The same way that you 'ave obviously let it go, non?" _ That was too near the truth, the one she had never admitted outloud. It had played on her mind all night as she had tossed and turned in her bed. Eventually the pain and humiliation that had bubbled inside of her at those words had subsided, and all she was left with was a residual anger that left her feeling reckless, unwilling to hide in her rooms, unwilling to hurry off in the opposite direction when she saw Fleur or heard her voice in the corridors. She needed to show that woman that she could let it go. That she had let it go.

Just as her breakfast appeared in front her, she saw Fleur enter the great hall and suddenly her feelings of bravado began to dissipate. The potions teacher was wearing light blue robes, similar to the Beauxbaxtons uniform robes. She obviously had also not slept well, even make up could not hide the pale face with dark rings under her eyes. She was nodding politely at something Professor Flitwick was saying to her as they walked to the table.

"Good morning headmistress," squeaked the charms master.

"Good morning Filius. Good morning Fleur." Fleur looked towards Professor McGonagall and came to a sudden stop seeing Hermione sat next to her. From this distance, Hermione could see a dark welt on her bottom lip. The memory of biting Fleur's lip flooded into Hermione's mind, fingers tightening around her spoon.

"Ah...err...bonjour. I've just remembered, I 'ave err...forgotten a parchment I need for ze first class. I will go collect it now," her words stumbling all over one another in her rush to get away.

"Nonsense, you shall have your breakfast first. You're looking dreadfully tired aswell. I was just saying to Miss. Granger here that I know you're both new to teaching and I know you're both hard workers, but you still need to look after yourselves. Come, take a seat."

Fleur looked down the table for a space, but the only remaining space was next to Hermione. She avoided looking at Hermione as she settled stiffly into her chair, whilst Hermione kept her eyes on her porridge, taking care not to brush against the blonde.

"Actually, I'm glad you're both here this morning, I'd wanted to ask you both a favour," the headmistress began. Both the professors turned to look at her.

"I want you both to organise and help to chaperone the Christmas ball." Hermione looked at her blankly.

"Christmas ball?"

"Yes Miss Granger, it started it a few years ago, it finishes off the term in high spirits, I think. And I like seeing the different houses come together to celebrate, a united school. But I doubt either of you need reminding how exciting a school ball is when you're a student! "

"Oui," smiled Fleur wistfully. "The lights, the anticipation, beautiful gowns, c'est tres bonne."

"Excellent, I have you on board then? And you Miss Granger?" Hermione shot a look at Fleur who kept her eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall, a steely glint in her blue eyes.

"Errr…we're both new here, wouldn't you rather prefer an established teacher to help out? I'm worried that I might let get distracted from my teaching." Hermione was torn, she didn't want to work in close proximity with Fleur, but that wasn't a reason that she could use.

"I actually think that it would be beneficial for the pupils to have their ball arranged by younger members of staff, after all, I'm sure your taste in music and ideas of what make a good ball are rather more similar to theirs, than to the rest of the staff, our tastes are a bit more traditional," she smiled wryly. "And as for being distracted from your teaching, I'm not worried, I think it would be good for you to spend a little time out of the classroom. Of course, if you really don't want to, I can find someone else."

Hermione glanced at Fleur, who had a slight smile on her grim face, obviously expecting her to decline. The brunette felt her temper flare at the smile, and felt her own jaw set at her decision.

"I'll help,"Hermione nodded her consent. _It's time for a change. Time to try and take control of my life. I'll owl Harry back later._


	6. Chapter 6

"Ron. Hi." They both stood awkwardly in front of each other, smiling politely. Ron gestured to the door and they both entered the Three Broomsticks, grateful to find it busy. Hermione was already beginning to regret letting Harry convince her to meet Ron and him for a drink. It had been a long week, organising the ball had been on her mind, but all she had managed to do was to arrange a meeting with Fleur for the following week, she hadn't seen or heard her all week. Ron cleared his throat and Hermione looked up at him. He'd lost the gawkiness of adolescence that she remembered, he was still slim, but obviously well muscled beneath his shirt. But it was the change in his face that struck her the most, the last traces of any baby face had gone, only a small smattering of light freckles remained, leaving in place a serious man.

"So, how you've been? Harry said you were teachin' at Hogwarts now?" Hermione nodded, wondering how much Harry had told him.

"I've been well thanks. Yeah, I teach defence of dark arts there now." She felt the awkwardness overwhelming and was wishing Harry would hurry up with the drinks. She had to physically stop herself from moving back when Ron leaned forward,

"Look Hermione, before Harry comes back, do you think…" He was cut off as Harry clattered the tankards of butterbeers onto the table, grinning widely. Hermione was unsure why, but she was relieved that Ron hadn't been able to finish what he had wanted to say, although part of her was curious.

"This is good isn't it, the three of us together again in the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer? Like old times really!" smiled Harry. Hermione found herself responding to his enthusiastic smile, regretting the fact that she doubted things could ever be quite the same between them all despite her wish that it would. Harry raised his tankard,

"To us." Hermione and Ron both raised their tankards silently, Ron's gaze intent on Hermione whilst she focused on Harry.

"Hard to believe, huh, that it's been…what…nine or ten years since we first came here? I had to sneak out under my invisibility cloak when the Dursleys wouldn't sign my permission slip!"

"Harry mate, I don't wanna worry you but there's a pretty shifty looking bloke staring at you, sat at the bar. Not the usual 'you're the chosen one' stare neither."

Harry tensed up, keeping his gaze on Ron.

"What's he look like?"

"Tall, skinny bloke, pale with a black goatee, wearing a spotted red and navy trilby-"

"Oh Merlin, please don't tell me he's also carrying a navy cane with a red handle."

"Errr...'fraid so. You know him?"

Harry had to fight off the urge to bang his head against the table top.

"Don't look at him, perhaps he won't come over. He's someone who works at the Ministry, do you recognise him Hermione?" She glanced over, shaking her head.

"He's a really nice chap, but has all sorts of conspiracy theories that he loves to share with me, and only me. Seems to believe that muggle technology is being used to conceal dark arts and that-"

"Harry, he's coming over." Harry resisted the urge to groan and turned around, a strained smile planted on his face.

"Harry, old boy, it is you! I was just sat over there thinking about things when I thought I saw you, but I wasn't sure. But then I saw Miss. Granger sat there, looking very lovely I might add, and with that red hair, I presume that is Mr. Weasley and I surmised that it must be you sat with them!"

"Mr. Lipsett, it's such a surprise to see you here." Hermione coughed to hide a smile that was forming on her face.

"Yes, yes, I don't come here often to this fine establishment for some reason, despite the lovely atmosphere! And Madame Rosmerta's enchanting personality too, hmm...I really should come here more often, they do have a rather wonderful well aged firewhiskey here. Actually, do you mind if I pull you away from your friends for just a while, I just want your opinion on something." He winked conspiratorially at Hermione, lowering his voice in a dramatic fashion, "Secretive ministry stuff I'm afraid." Hermione nodded, trying to look serious as she bit her lower lip to stop herself laughing.

"Come along Harry, I'll buy you a drink and you can tell me what you think about these MP players that the muggles use," they heard him say as he herded Harry to the corner of the room. Harry turned his head around, shrugging apologetically. Ron stared after them, shaking his head incredulously,

"Crazy old sod isn't he? Still, seemed 'armless enough!"

"And rather charismatic, I found," Hermione grinned.

"Well, he did say you looked rather lovely today! I thought you said you didn't know him?"

"I don't, maybe he recognised my face from when I worked in the ministry, I had a lot of contact with all different departments."

"And you do look lovely today actually."

_So this is what sudden awkward situations feel like._ Hermione smiled lightly,

"Thanks. Um...so how are things with you now? Where are you working? Harry mentioned that you're engaged to Lavender Brown, congratulations on that."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about-"

"About your job?" _Please take the bait, I don't think I want to know what you're going to say otherwise._

"No. About my engagement." _It can't be good if he's using that tone of voice. _Ron took a visible deep breath,

"Hermione, I need to know if we can start again?" Hermione felt a flood of relief pass over her.

"Of course! We were friends before, we can be friends again," she enthused.

"I think you're misunderstanding me. Can we start again as a couple?"

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"We were really good together before, I just want things to be like they used to be-"

"You're engaged Ron!"

"Lavender's a great girl, and I don't want to hurt her, but it's not the same as being with you. If you say yes, I'll finish with her-"

"Ron, stop this, please-" She was cut off as Ron steamed ahead with an obviously well rehearsed speech.

"'mione, please. I understand that we weren't ready for something so serious then, what with the war and my brother and everything, I guess it just got too much then. But I've changed, we've both had time to grow up, experience the world a little more."

"Ron-"

"I know I used to depend on you too much, always relying on you for schoolwork, for emotional support, for everything, but I can stand on my own two feet now. I don't need you to look after me anymore, but I'd like to look after you. You look tired and worn out. Give me a chance to look after you. Please." He lifted his hand and cupped her face gently.


	7. Chapter 7

Fleur was sat across the room watching the exchange. She could see their profiles, but wasn't able to hear what they were saying. He was leaning across the table, she was sat upright and straight. It was obviously something important. The blonde had actually come to the village to escape her rooms to which she had confined herself to for fear of bumping into Hermione. Apparently she just wasn't able to get away from Hermione. They hadn't noticed her when they entered the pub, and whilst she tried to concentrate on her book, she found her eyes constantly drawn the brunette. She felt her stomach drop when Ron lifted his hand against Hermione's cheek. It wasn't the touch that bothered her, it was the intimacy and gentleness of it that bothered her, it was a gesture that wanted more, a gesture she was more than familiar with.

A sudden clatter from a fallen stool made her jump, causing her to turn to see a hag picking up the chair. When she turned back she saw that Hermione's attention had been drawn by the noise. And her gaze was now focused on Fleur. A feeling of embarrassment and guilt swept over her, she felt as though she had been caught eavesdropping. Hermione had a strange look on her face, almost contemplative and yet again, Fleur wished the war hadn't taught her to hide her thoughts.

Suddenly her view was obscured by someone stepping in front of her. She looked up at her obstruction annoyed, then paled seeing Ronald Weasley. The expression on his face was hard, his fists clenched tightly at this sides.

"What the hell do you think you're doin' here?" he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice low. She couldn't stop herself from reverting to her defensive cold façade.

"'avin' a drink like everyone else 'ere."

"You don't have any bloody right to be here, you really hurt him you know? You just left him, you never gave a toss about him did you, not really?"

"Ron," came a voice behind him, a small hand coming to rest on his arm. Hermione was obviously trying to avert a scene, but this inflamed both Ron and Fleur. Ron shrugged her off angrily.

"Why don't you just go back to France, back to whoever you left my brother for? What happened huh? Did you meet some flashy bloke when you went back to France and left my brother for him? Or was it just because you couldn't take the fact that Bill's a werewolf now, despite all of your pretty words? You owe him a bleedin' explanation, you had no right to walk out on 'im the way you did!"

Fleur could see Hermione standing behind him, and she caught and held the brunette's gaze.

"I didn't love 'im anymore. I was in love with someone else." Fleur looked back at Ron, whose face was beginning to resemble the colour of his hair.

"Ron, let's go. Just leave it." She could see the anger on Hermione's face and the fear in her eyes.

"I wish he'd never met you. I wish you'd never come here, you don't know how much grief you caused my family!" Hermione felt ashamed at the knowledge that he didn't realise that Fleur hadn't just been detrimental to his family, she'd also played a part in the demise of their relationship.

"I never want to set eyes on you again!" Ron stormed out, crashing the door open, causing other patrons to stare. Hermione shot Fleur an angry look before hurrying out to follow him. The blonde ignored the curious glances and leaned her head against the wall, sighing. She couldn't stop herself regretting her reaction, but then again, she was tired of all the half lies, tired of entire situation with Hermione.

Hermione had to chase after Ron who was already more than fifty metres ahead as he strode angrily along the quiet road, kicking at the snow.

"Of all the bloody places, she has to be here in Hogsmeade. What the hell is she after?"

"What do you mean? Hogsmeade is the primary magical establishment in the country," she puffed, try hard to keep up with Ron's long strides.

"Why Britain? Why is she back?" Hermione realised with a jolt that Harry hadn't told him about Fleur.

"She works here," she offered, voice carefully neutral.

"What?"

"She works at Hogwarts. She's the potions teacher."

"You work together?" She nodded in answer, watching him struggling to calm his anger.

"You can't trust her, 'mione, you can't. You've seen what she did to my family, fracturing my family, demandin' to be accepted by mum and Ginny and then when she was accepted, she offs and leaves Bill with no explanation. D'you know how many arguments Bill and me mum had about her? She's a heartless bitch Hermione, you have to watch your back." She had to bite her tongue in retort, an overwhelming need to defend Fleur enveloped her, but she remained silent knowing there was nothing she could say to improve the situation.

"Hermione?" He put his hand on her shoulder. She placed her hand over his, feeling his tendons twitching beneath her palm as she removed his hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't make a decision right now. Consider it please."

"Ron, I really don't have-"

"Lavender is travelling back and forth for business and won't be back permanently until Christmas eve. Please just consider it until then. If I don't hear from you by then, I'll drop it. But I hope that isn't the case." He walked off, leaving an aghast Hermione.

"Ron there isn't-"

"I really hope to hear from you soon." He nodded to her before disapparating. Hermione just stared at the spot he had disapparated from, unable to comprehend what had just happened. _A quiet life for four years, and now all this. I suppose when it rains, it really does pour._ The snow was now beginning to fall and a shiver reminder her that she had left her scarf in the Three Broomsticks. The Three Broomsticks that Fleur was sat in. She contemplated whether it'd be worth turning up at the castle half frozen just so she wouldn't have to face the blonde. Then she remembered Harry, she'd totally forgotten about him in the ruckus. She was hurrying back to the village when she saw Harry bounding up to her. She slowed down, catching her breath.

"Hermione! Where's Ron? What happened back there?" Harry's cheeks were red from the exertion, his breath forming large patches of mist in the air. "I heard the door slam open and when I turned around I saw you rushing out and Ron was gone. It took me another ten minutes to escape from , I was just hoping that you and Ron would come back. Did you both have another fight?" Hermione rounded on him angrily,

"You told me he only wanted to be friends!"

"He does! He kept saying that he wished things were like they used to be."

"Yes, like they used to be. During our final year."

"You mean...? No, you can't be, he's with Lavender, engaged! Are you sure you didn't just hear him incorrectly 'mione?" The perplexed look on his face told her that he obviously didn't have any idea of Ron's intentions beforehand.

"I'm really sorry Harry, I shouldn't have shouted at you, I know you'd never do something like that."

"You thought I was trying I was trying to set you up?"

"No, yes, well...no, of course not. I was just angry. He really put me on the spot. Ron wants us to give it another go-"

"Maybe he meant as friends?"

"That's what I thought. But no, he was rather explicit about wanting to be with me, said he would break up with Lavender if I agreed."

"He actually said that? What did you..."

" He wouldn't let me answer."

"Are you considering..."

"No! Definately not! But he said he'll wait until Christmas eve for my answer."

"Hermione, I am so sorry. I had no idea that he felt that way, I would never have coerced you into meeting us for a drink if I'd known. I honestly had no idea that he still felt that way about you, I thought he'd got over you. Merlin, it's been four years." He looked at her, eyes full of sympathy.

"Believe me, time doesn't always change things."

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there something going on between you and Fleur?"

"What?"

"I saw her watching you as you left. And she picked up your scarf, she was just staring at it. Listen, if there isn't anything, just say. If there is, but you're not ready to talk about it, just say. But with the thing with Ron, I've just realised that we all haven't been as honest about our feelings as we used to be."

"Let's get a stiff drink Harry. In the Hog's Head."


	8. Chapter 8

Evening found Fleur in her living quarters, sat on a thick rug as she leant back onto an armchair, a glass of wine on the ground next to her, staring into a blazing fire. She had found herself doing this a lot lately, just thinking, although her thoughts never led to anything, they just went round and round in incessant circles. Always the same thing, the same person, and she was fed up with it. Contrary to her personality, all she really wanted to do was to run back to France, away from everything she was feeling, somewhere she wouldn't have to face Hermione, or even think about her. As if she could choose to not think about her.

She lifted the glass to her lips, inhaling the delicate bouquet of the wine. It was a beautiful vintage of red wine, a gift from Gabrielle to celebrate the birth of her first born. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes, holding the wine in her mouth for a moment, enjoying the blossoms of flavour spreading across her tongue, before swallowing, the liquid flowing smoothly down her throat. She missed the wines of France, it was easy to find good beer and whiskey in Britain, but harder to find the wines that reminded her of the sun soaked vineyards of her youth. She missed her family terribly, especially wishing she could spend more time with her nephew. But most of all, she was just lonely. Sitting with a glass of good wine and a book, in front of a crackling fire used to be one of her favourite pastimes, something she treasured. Now it just felt reclusive, she wanted someone with her so that she could entangle her legs with theirs as they both read in companionable silence. In fact, she didn't want someone, she wanted Hermione, that beautiful, intelligent, hair-pullingly frustrating woman. She sighed audibly, watching a spark fly as bark popped in the fireplace.

Everyone always assumed that being part Veela made life easy, but she was inclined to disagree. Good looks and a natural thrall did have many advantages of course, made life easier in a lot of ways, but when it came to love, which was the only thing that was important to her, it was a completely different matter. She easily attracted men and more than a few women, but their attraction wasn't love, just a superficial semblance of one. One that occasionally veered into sinister boundaries of obsession. She wondered if what she felt towards Hermione was an obsession.

Since she had first set her eyes on the brunette years ago, she'd been unable to get her out of her mind. Of course, over the years she had been attracted to other people, and even briefly involved with a couple of them, but those relationships ended just as quickly as they started as she lost interest. Except for Bill. She had believed that she would spend the rest of her life with him when she had accepted his proposal, that whilst she wasn't able to reciprocate the intensity of his feelings, she had loved him; she had loved him as much as she could, but it wasn't enough for either of them. He always knew something was slightly off, but he wasn't able to pinpoint what it was, and she had been unable to tell him, but still he had accepted her. She hadn't anticipated that Hermione would be at the Burrow when she was finalising preparations for the wedding and every time she had seen the brunette there, helping her prepare for her wedding to Bill, she felt as though a part of her was being torn apart. But thankfully Molly, inundated with last minute tasks, had enlisted Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, to be her own personal assistants and had them constantly busy with different chores, and Fleur rarely saw her. And with the space she was just still able to believe she could be happy with her soon to be husband. But the moment she caught sight of Hermione at the wedding, looking beautiful in a simply cut, tailored red dress, a delicate pendant at her throat, a fleeting look on Hermione's face began to make her think that there was a possibility, the most miniscule possibility that they could be more than acquaintances and she felt herself begin to unravel. Fleur shut her eyes wondering what may have happened had she not taken those few steps to Bill, but instead took Hermione's hand. What if she had declared her affections for Hermione in the days before the wedding? Always what if, what if, when it was now far too late to change things, too late to do the right thing.

She had arranged to meet with Hermione on Monday as neither had lessons in the afternoon but after what she had said earlier, she wasn't sure if Hermione would turn up. Or whether she wanted Hermione to turn up. And all she could see in her mind was the image of Ron with his hand against Hermione's cheek. And Hermione not pulling away. Surely they weren't...Hermione wouldn't...then Fleur remembered the small hand on Ron's arm when he had confronted her. The way Hermione had chased after him as he left. She caught sight of Hermione's scarf draped over her chair, and the taste of wine turned to vinegar. She angrily flung her glass into the fire, flecks of wine staining the rug, the sound of glass shattering and an explosion of flames in the fireplace. And then with the exception of wood crackling, there was just silence as she stared.


	9. Chapter 9

Fleur walked around the dungeon, offering advice and comments as the students attempted to make the euphoria inducing elixir. So far none of the students had been able to able to produce the sunshine yellow elixir and she found herself wincing as she saw one student hacking at a shrivelfig, almost losing a finger in the process. She was exhausted due to a terrible morning so far, one of her older students had brewed a hiccoughing solution so strong that a few of her students had ended up going to the infirmary to be cured and the dungeon was emanating a terrible smell as two of her first year students had ignored instructions on how to make a boil cure potion and ended up melting their cauldrons, getting the potion all over themselves which instantly caused their skin to erupt in boils and they also had had to be admitted into the infirmary. She shuddered to think what words Madame Pomfrey would have for her later on. And she was still meant to be meeting Hermione to discuss the Christmas ball, although she wasn't sure if that was still going to happen as she hadn't seen Hermione since the incident at the Three Broomsticks.

"Professor Delacour?" Fleur turned at the voice, spotting a young student at the doorway.

"Oui?" The young boy turned bright red at being spoken to directly, and Fleur bit her lip trying not to smile.

"I...I...I haveanoteforyou," he rushed, thrusting a folded piece of parchment at her and rushing off. She glanced at the front of the parchment and her heart leapt at the sight of Hermione's small, neat handwriting. _Maybe she's changed her mind about working on the ball. With me._ The memory of Ron's hand against Hermione's face flashed through her mind and she felt her heart constrict, clenching her jaw in frustration, before reading the note.

_**Fleur,**_

_**We have to work together. Truce?**_

_**H**_

_She called me Fleur._ The potions professor turned away from her students and went into the storeroom to take a moment to reign in her thoughts. The pungent smell of her herbs and other ingredients filled her nostrils, the wooden shelves rough against her fingers. _Maybe Hermione extended the olive branch because of work. Maybe it was because she was back with Ron and didn't want any trouble. _She rested her head against a cool glass bottle, taking in a deep breath. She didn't want to fight anymore, every painful encounter with Hermione was taking a greater toll than the last. _As long as she's happy, then that will be enough. It doesn't matter who it's with._ She stood upright, smoothed out her long hair and went out to reply to the note.

Hermione scanned the classroom, satisfied that all her students were busy practicing their hexes. For some reason the single word on the parchment that had just been delivered to her seemed so wistful, but she didn't doubt for a moment she was projecting her own feelings. She ran her finger over the elegant, flowing letters.

_**Truce**_

* * *

><p>The young teachers were both overwhelmingly aware of each other, every look, every gesture, every word. It was awkward. However, the part Veela utilised every aspect of social training she had ever had, and with Hermione filling in any gaps of silence with more polite chat, they slowly became accustomed to each other as they walked towards the staff room together.<p>

"Professor Granger, I need to speak to you!" shouted a young Gryffindor, causing the professors to turn.

"Is everything alright Clarice? You know you're not allowed to run in the corridors."

"It's Charlotte professor, some of the Slytherins were teasing her earlier about her lisp and now she's locked herself in the girl's toilets and won't come out. Can you come talk to her please, she'll listen to you."

"Of course. You go to your class, I'll go speak to her. Is it the girl's bathroom on the first floor?"

"Yeah, she's locked herself in the cubicle furthest away from the door."

"Ok, thanks. Now off you go to class please." Hermione watched the girl scamper off, sighing at being reminded acutely of her own days as a first year student.

"Fleur-"

"We can do this another time if you want."

"No, we have to get started. I've left the stuff in my chambers anyway, do you mind waiting there for me? It's behind the painting of the writer." The Frenchwoman was rather taken aback.

"Non, although you may 'ave to erm...give me your password. I can just wait outside if you'd prefer of course," she rushed.

"It's fine. It's gummi bear." Fleur raised a slender eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on her face.

"It's a-"

"A muggle sweet. Oui, I am rather keen on them myself, particularly the white and green ones," the Frenchwoman grinned, enjoying the look of surprise on Hermione's face. Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, before closing her mouth, grinning.

Hermione's quarters were a surprise to Fleur, she'd never imagined them to be so warm, always imagining the brunette living areas to be spartan. Instead, whilst the room was still simply decorated, dreamy watercolours drew the eyes to the walls, large squishy cushions and warm throws bringing splashes of pastel colours to the room. And inevitably there was a large mahogany bookcase which failed to contain its contents adequately, books piled up on top of one another reflecting the books piled high on the matching desk next to it. Glancing at the titles of the books, she was surprised to find that they were not organised meticulously, but rather arranged haphazardly, fiction rubbing spines with non-fiction, magical texts crushed next to what she assumed to be muggle books. The door which led to the bedroom was ajar, but Fleur fought her curiosity to take a peek, turning away from it to try and ignore the temptation.

Fleur was stood holding a muggle photograph of Hermione in her late teens, in the middle of two elegant, older people who she assumed were her parents. It was strange to Fleur to see all the people in the photograph so stationary, but it was beautiful photo nevertheless, all of them captured laughing together, Hermione's arms casually draped around her parents' waists.

"It was a perfect day that day." Fleur started at the sound of Hermione's low voice, turning to see the brown eyes fixed on the photograph. "I gave myself one day to let them take away my worries, to live in the world where Voldemort wasn't a threat they knew. We went walking in the woods, we ate a picnic near a beautiful trout stream and watched wild deer and in the evening we sat around a log burner and drank hot chocolate. We all laughed so much that day."

"Je suis désolée, I didn't mean to…" Fleur went to place the photograph back on top of the fireplace mantle.

"It's ok, it's been a while since I thought about that day," Hermione smiled gently.

"I'm sorry for your loss," her eyes full of sympathy. A puzzled look crossed Hermione's face, before she gave a short humourless laugh.

"My parents, they aren't…they're still alive, they're fine."

"But ze expression on your face, I thought…je ne comprends pas."

"The day after that photograph was taken, I removed myself from my parent's memories, to try and keep them safe from Voldemort. It's just hard to think that less than twelve hours after that perfect day, I had to do the hardest thing I have ever done."

"But you restored zere memories after, non?"

"Yes, but once I explained what had happened…I think I frightened them. " It pained Fleur to watch Hermione's expressions, the strained smile.

"But surely once zey knew about ze war…"

"My parents are both muggles. They don't read the Daily Prophet, they know very little of the magic world. They never saw any magic as I was underage, they just saw lots of books and strange equipment. To them, going to Diagon Alley was like being in a foreign market, albeit stranger, people in different types of clothes, goods that they didn't recognise, but I don't think they ever really knew how much magic could achieve. The most different thing they ever saw were the goblins at Gringotts, that was it. In the muggle world there was no impending war. They didn't know how dangerous it was becoming for them as muggles. As the parents of a witch. A witch associated with Harry Potter at that. All they knew was that for one year they hadn't been themselves. They had moved, lived under different names, lost all memories of their only child and they hadn't realised it. And all of it was done without their understanding or consent. They tried to understand, and they've never blamed me for anything. But how do you understand something you never saw or heard about from anyone else? I frighten them and I don't know how to change that!" Hermione's fists were balled up by her side as the frustration poured out of her, her back ramrod straight. And then something shifted in her, as she shrugged, her eyes pleading helplessness,

"But we're trying. We're trying to rebuild our family." And Fleur felt the abject despair in those words break her heart.

Hermione regretted telling her, but she had been unable to stop herself, the words had just flowed out of her mouth ceaselessly. She had never even told Harry how she had felt about that. She felt Fleur's hand on her shoulder in sympathy, but was unable to stop herself jerking away from the touch, trying to cover up by pretending to look for her notes which lay in full view on her desk. Both of them knew she wasn't fooling anybody.

"Here they are. I was thinking whether or not we should have a theme or some kind, or a colour theme, what do you think?" Hermione's voice was brisk and business like as she looked at her papers, avoiding eye contact. Fleur watched the brunette fiddle with her quill for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching into her bag for her own notes.


	10. Chapter 10

_**They think that no one knows about them, but I know and I will make sure that by the time I'm finished, everyone else will know. She can't expect to keep taking and taking with no consequences. I've watched her, seen every move she makes and how people put her on this pedestal I don't know, she makes me feel sick. Do they know that she toys with people, teasing, draining them before chewing them up, defleshing them and spitting them out without their souls? One after the other, she takes those that don't belong to her. She took everything from me, my family, my lover, my dignity, the bitch took everything from me without any remorse. And no one cared because she's a fucking hero to those blind followers. Those stupid idiots who refuse to ask questions, those idiots who are happy to accept everything at face value. But I won't worry about that, I'll reveal her to her the world, the ugliness hidden under that flawless skin. So I will take everything from her. Let her suffer the way that she makes me suffer, let her taste the humiliation that I have to endure daily. But she wasn't always like that, or maybe she was and I had no idea. I even liked her once. Intelligent, beautiful, brave, she could have it all if she wanted. And she does, but she chooses those that she shouldn't. I won't sit here in silence anymore, I won't wait for her to shatter my world apart again. This time it's my turn to take your world apart. Don't wait up for me, I'll come to you.**_


	11. Chapter 11

"She's in love with you, you know," Harry said quietly, taking a sip of his tea and pretending to decide which biscuit he wanted, watching Hermione from the corner of his eyes. The brunette was staring down at the plate, watching the shortcake crumble as she broke it tiny pieces. He had been surprised that Hermione had invited him to the castle, he had thought she would want to avoid him to avoid the issue, but obviously she wanted to talk or maybe to apologise.

"I know."

"What?" Harry's head jerked up, giving up all pretence of nonchalance.

"I said I know." Hermione could feel the buttery residue on her fingers as she pushed the crumbs around the plate, crushing fragments beneath her fingers.

"And?" he demanded wanting to pull the plate from Hermione.

"And that's that." She reached for a napkin, wiping her fingers carefully, feeling Harry's eyes boring into her.

"Do you love her?"

"I told you the other day-"

"No you didn't Hermione. You told me that something had happened between the two of you a few years ago and now you were working at the same place and it was awkward. You then proceeded to get so utterly and horribly drunk that I couldn't take you back to the castle in case one of your students saw you, but thankfully I managed to get you back to Madame Rosmerta's discreetly."

"Harry, I'm really sorry," apologised Hermione, a flush visible from her neck up.

"Don't be, you obviously needed to let it out somehow. Besides, you could always become a spy if teaching doesn't work out, you didn't let anything slip at all and you were so drunk I doubt you knew what your own name was," he raised an eyebrow at her, smiling. "Just try not to drink that much in the future, bad for the old liver."

"That's why we're drinking tea this evening, I paid the price when I woke up the next day, even the thought of alcohol makes me feel nauseous," she replied wryly.

"I just wish you could trust me Hermione." She took a sip of her tea, grimacing at the tepid temperature.

"It's not a matter of trust, Harry, if it was, I'd have told you immediately, I trust you with my life. I just...I just don't know what to say about it. Or how to say it." She got up and set the kettle above the fire, back turned to Harry.

"Start from when it all began. And we can work from there." He wondered if he was right to push for answers, but it was obvious she hadn't spoken to anyone else about it and she needed an outlet, even if he had to force one. He could see her staring at the photograph of her and her parents, obviously trying to make up her mind about something. There was silence in the room until the kettle began to whistle at which point she levitated it to the table, using magic to make new cups of hot tea.

"Shell cottage."

He frowned in confusion before a startled look crossed his face.

"After Bellatrix...?" An almost imperceptible nod confirmed the answer and he stared at Hermione.

"Merlin's beard! That was about five years ago! Wait...are you the reason she divorced him?"

"Yes. I didn't ask her, we never discussed it, I only found out when you told me after I started working here. I'm the reason, I'm sure it has a name, I'm the mistress or whatever," she said bitterly.

"I thought... I thought that something had happened a couple of years ago or something, I didn't think it was so long ago. So when we were searching for the horcruxes, you weren't miserable because Ron left, but because of Fleur?" Hermione could almost see Harry replaying all that had happened over the years and seeing a very different story.

"Yes. I was upset about Ron leaving at a time when we all needed to be together, but I was mainly upset about what had happened at Shell cottage...not upset, just confused...actually yes, upset at what happened when you and Bill came back...oh I don't know, I wasn't sure what was going to happen when you two came back, but when you did, I felt angry, hurt and just confused."

"But you and Ron...I don't understand, why did you kiss him that night only to break up with him later? Did you even like him that way?"

"You're talking about the night of the battle?" she asked, fiddling around with her cup.

"Yeah."

"That wasn't the first time we kissed." Harry stared at Hermione momentarily before rubbing his face with his hands, suddenly looking very tired.

"No one told me. Merlin, I can't believe that neither of you told me. I can't believe I didn't notice, I must be blind. Great auror that I make."

"You were rather busy back then if I remember correctly, you know, with plotting to get rid of Voldemort and all. We kissed at the wedding Harry, maybe a couple of hours before we got attacked. I don't know why I kissed him, well, actually he was the one who kissed me, but I didn't stop him. I'd gone for a walk away from the tent, I couldn't watch Fleur dance with...I decided to go for a walk and somehow Ron found me. We were just talking about things, nothing special, just the usual things, I don't think that I was paying much attention and the next thing I knew was that he was kissing me. And so I kissed him back."

"All the time whilst you were thinking of Fleur, his new sister in law?"

"I know, I know, there's no excuse for what I did. I just, I just wanted to get her out of my bloody head. God, I made such a mess of things Harry."

"Yes you did. And at Fleur's wedding..." he gave a short laugh, not breaking eye contact with Hermione. "You know how to make things complicated Hermione, I'll give you that." Hermione shot him a dirty look.

"There's no need to look at me like that Hermione, we both know it's true. Did you know you had feelings for Fleur at the time of the wedding?" He was surprised to see Hermione blush and trying to cover it up by taking a sip of her tea.

"I knew I liked Fleur since...erm...ahem...since the Triwizard Tournament. I just had no idea that she would ever reciprocate the feelings."

"Bloody hell Hermione. Seriously, if you want a change of career, we could do with more spies and you can obviously keep things to yourself," the hurt evident in his voice. Hermione reached over the table, covering his hand with her own.

"Harry, I'm sorry I never told you, but I never told anyone. We were young and I just thought it was an adolescent crush, and then once I realised it wasn't, I didn't know how to tell you. What was I meant to say? Something like 'have you done your homework yet, and by the way I rather fancy Fleur, yes, the Fleur who's dating our best friend's brother'?"

"Do you love her?" Harry stared at Hermione until she looked away, unwilling to answer.

"I'll take your non answer as a yes then. Then why on earth aren't you together?"

"It's complicated Harry-"

"Hermione, it's not complicated. In fact, it's rather simple. You're single, she's single, you're both obviously in love with one another."

"We hurt a lot of people Harry, Ron and Bill obviously, but his family too. I want to, god I want nothing more, "she swallowed back the tears which threatened to take over.

"Ron'll get over it Hermione. People always get hurt when it comes to things like this, you can't help that, there'll always be someone who will unhappy. But you're hurting other people unnecessarily, you're hurting Fleur, you're hurting yourself, and all for what? Because of a guilt trip?"

"But Harry, what if...what if how Ron feels towards me is how I feel towards Fleur? I can't even know that she's in the same room without wanting to touch her and when I see her..." Harry could feel Hermione's fingertips digging into his hand, feeling the frustration exude from her.

"I love Ron like a brother, but even if he feels that way, so what? You don't reciprocate his feelings so it doesn't matter how he feels. Why are you putting yourself through this nightmare Hermione?"

"He asked me to marry him," she whispered.

_The elation of victory had gone and left grief in its wake. Voldemort was finally gone, but this battle had taken others with him, a victory that had cost more than a few lives. Colin, Tonks, Lupin, Fred...Fred. His family were stood around his body, a sobbing George on his knees clutching onto Fred's robes, refusing to let go. Harry and Hermione stood slightly apart from the Weasleys, both being starkly reminded that no matter how much they felt part of the Weasley family, they weren't. As she watched the Weasleys, Hermione felt hollow, she felt absolutely nothing. She felt no happiness, no relief, no worries, no cares, no grief, no regrets, nothing. She just felt empty, the bodies that lay in untidy rows were too much. The scene in front of her elicited no more feelings. She watched George cry into his twin's chest, she watched his parents holding onto each other silently as they held each other upright. Something reminded her that Ron needed comfort, and she stepped closer to him, taking his hand into hers. She could feel him shaking as he drew her to him and hugged her, drawing strength from her presence. And there was nothing, she couldn't bring about any emotion. He released her, but kept hold of her hand, nodding his thanks, his eyes bright with tears. _

_She saw Percy staring at his brother's inert form and knew instinctively that he felt as she did, although when the denial of grief broke, he would be consumed. Charlie was stood holding a sobbing Ginny, his eyes focused on the twin's body. And then she saw Fleur walking towards them. She had her arm around a limping Bill, her face drawn tight with worry. She had lost weight since she had last seen her, her cheekbones were stark and unforgiving. And then she looked up and found Hermione's gaze upon her. The pale blue hue of her eyes suddenly darkened to azure, a brightness blazing, causing a catch in Hermione's breath. In the middle of a battlefield, surrounded by the fallen and grieving, with clouds of dust still settling, all Hermione could think about was Fleur's eyes, her hands and her mouth. And she despised herself for it. The sudden motion of Ron ripping his hand from hers allowed her to tear her eyes from Fleur's and she saw that Arthur Weasley had fainted and his children had rushed over to help. It was too much, she didn't want to see any more. She turned and walked away quickly before breaking out into a run, not knowing where she was going._

_She stopped when she found herself in the clock tower courtyard, the sweet smelling, cool night air calming the feeling of panic she felt inside. The courtyard was empty and she looked over the surrounding countryside which was bathed in moonlight, her head resting against the old stone doorframe. It was so peaceful out there._

_She didn't bother turning around at the sound of footsteps, she had recognised them straight away._

"'_ermione." She didn't turn around, kept her eyes focused on the silhouette of the landscape, if she kept her eyes on it maybe she could forget the carnage nearby._

"'_ave you been 'urt?" Hermione felt a hand rest lightly on the centre of her back, and she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch._

"_No." She paused. "Are you?"_

"_Non. Turn around 'ermione."_

"_Why?" She swallowed hard, eyes closed as she tried to stop tears forming._

"_I want to see your face. I need to see you are ok."_

"_I'm fine, really." She leaned her head back slightly, trying to blink back the tears._

"'_ermione..."_

"_No. I'm fine, I'm not hurt." The tears were running down her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing why she was crying. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and she let herself be turned around, eyes closed. A gentle finger tried to brush away the tears, but they were just replaced by more. She opened her eyes to find a pained expression on Fleur's face, azure eyes full of worry. And longing. Feelings that she felt reflected in herself. _

"'_ermione, I-" Fleur was silenced as Hermione pressed her lips against hers, a tender kiss which almost instantly became demanding, tongues, lips, teeth. The jolt of the stone she was pushed against roused her and she felt Fleur break away from her, breath coming in gasps._

"'_ermione, we need-"_

"_No." _

_Hermione captured the Frenchwoman's mouth with her own again, entangling her fingers in the long hair as she pulled Fleur against her hard. She could taste the salt from her tears, she could feel and taste the dust that still lingered in great clouds in various rooms of the castle, and she could taste Fleur. She needed Fleur, every fibre of her being needed her, it wasn't enough to give up her body, she needed to relinquish everything until they were just one. She heard Fleur gasp as she ran her cool hands under the silk shirt, gasp turning into a lingering moan she ran her tongue and teeth along the sensitive skin of Fleur's throat, hands running up her sides, against her breasts, feeling hard nipples beneath the thin bra. Hermione could feel the rush in the depth of her belly as she listened to Fleur's throaty moans, her hands kneading the blonde's breasts and stomach, feeling the nails that were scraping down her back, she was beginning to lose herself in the blonde. Suddenly she found herself thrown into an alcove as Fleur caught her in a fierce kiss again, the older woman's hands impatiently tugging hard at the buttons of Hermione's trousers, a task that was being impaired as Hermione's hands yanked open Fleur's trousers, pulling down the zip._

"_Hermione!" Both the women froze at the sound of the familiar voice._

"_Hermione! Are you out here?" Hermione could feel Fleur's heart thudding against her chest, her breath against her lips. She looked at Fleur and could see the pleading in her blue eyes for her not to leave._

"_Hermione..." the voice cracked and they could hear the weeping outside. Hermione didn't want to leave, but she couldn't bear to leave him out there alone. Fleur shook her head silently, fingers tight around the brunette's wrist, eyes begging her to stay. Hermione leaned over and kissed her gently, breath catching as she pulled away and walked out of the alcove, not daring to look back._

_She found Ron on his knees, head in his hands as he cried. She kneeled down next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder,_

"_Ron?" He looked up, his eyes were red from crying, his skin even more pale than usual beneath the dust and he was shaking uncontrollably._

"_I can't believe he's gone 'mione, I can't believe it. It's not real."_

"_I'm so sorry Ron."_

"_Him and George were doin' great you know, makin' a mint from their shop. And now...it's not right, I don't get it."_

"_I don't think anyone understands it Ron, we may have magic, but we still can't understand death."_

"_But it's not right, he was young like us, he shouldn't be gone, what are we gonna do with without him? Merlin, what's me mum gonna do, how she gonna cope without him? And me dad?" Hermione had no answer, but seeing that his shaking was getting worse, she moved over and hugged him, holding him tight. She could feel his hot tears soaking through her shirt as she rocked him back and forth, stroking his hair soothingly. She felt him slowly begin to settle as she tried to control her heart rate, trying not to think about the woman hidden in the shadows. He pulled away from her sniffing loudly._

"_Marry me."_

"_Pardon?"_

"_Marry me Hermione Granger. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I've just realised how short life is and I don't want to waste any more time."_

"_Ron, don't. I'm sorry. I can't."_

"_Yes you can, just say yes 'mione. I've seen the way you've looked at me over the years and I know things have been strained lately, but when you kissed me again today I knew I needed you. You're always here for me when I need you."_

"_Ron, you don't know what you're saying, it's the grief talking-" He grabbed her hand, encasing it in both of his._

"_I know what I'm asking you Hermione. It's not the grief, it's how I feel. And I know you feel the same way. But it wasn't until now that I realise how stupid it is for us to play games, life's precious and any of us might not be here the next moment so any moments I do have here, I want them to be with you." She tugged her hand out of his grasp._

"_I can't. I'm sorry Ron, I can't do any of this," she said, as she watched fear appear in his eyes._

"_Any of what? Look, maybe I was bein' rash askin' you to marry me. It's obviously just early days for us-"_

"_No, I'm sorry Ron, I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have done any of this, I shouldn't have kissed you earlier, it was a mistake-"_

"_What you talking about 'mione? What mistake? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have scared you by proposing to you," he reached out placing his hands on her arms, but she pulled away, standing up._

"_It's not you, Ron. Please, I'm so sorry. This can't happen, I don't feel that way towards you." He stood up, desperation in his face._

"_You're not ready for marriage, that's ok, we have plenty of time-"_

"_No Ron. I don't...I don't love you." She looked at him and he stared back in disbelief, neither of them speaking._

"_I don't believe you." His tone was flat, his face stony and she recognised the signs of him trying to control his temper._

"_It's true," her voice low._

"_Is there someone else?" His eyes were glittering dangerously and she paused before answering._

"_Yes," she whispered, eyes cast low, afraid to meet his gaze. _

"_Who?" his voice as quiet as hers. Hermione could feel her fingers tingling, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest, knowing that Fleur could hear every word, knowing that she was mere metres away._

"_You're a liar," he growled. She jerked her head up, about to retort when she saw him advancing slowly towards her, and for the first time in her life, she felt afraid of him._

"_You're a liar!" he screamed, grabbing her arm hard. "You're fucking lying to me. I dunno why you're lying to me, but you're lying. I mean who could it be? Harry? No, I know it's not him cause he's with Ginny, it's not Krum and there's no other men you've met recently, so you're bloody lying to me. Why are you trying to hurt me? Why are you lying to me you bloody, fucking-"_

_The slap surprised both of them. Hermione felt the rush of blood in her shaking palm as he held a hand to his face in shock. He then turned around and stalked away silently, not seeing Fleur who had walked out of the shadows, every line in her body taut with anger, her hand reaching for her wand. Hermione saw her and a wave of nausea hit her, knowing that Fleur wouldn't have hesitated to really hurt him had he tried to hurt herself._

"'_ermione?"_

"_Get out," she whisphered, as she took in deep breaths, feeling the rising nausea._

"'_ermione, it wasn't-"_

"_I said get out Fleur! Just leave me!" she shouted, watching Fleur flinch. She thought Fleur was going to refuse before she saw the clench of the jaw clearly in the thin face and watched as the French witch left the same way Ron had left._

_And then Hermione leaned over and vomited into the grass._

"So after that, I left. I went to find my parents, but more than anything I just needed to get out of the magic world for a while. Maybe you're right Harry, maybe I am just punishing myself because I feel guilty. But I don't want to hurt him anymore than I have to, he won't cope with me being with a woman, he certainly won't cope with me being with Fleur. "


	12. Chapter 12

Note: Apologies for the long wait, I had to deal with real life for a little while! Thanks to those who have left reviews and to those who are reading and following this story. I really do appreciate the support. Thank you!

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><p>In her haze of tiredness Hermione didn't notice the increase in the volume of chatter when she entered the great hall for breakfast on Monday, nor did she see the looks directed at her. Whilst waiting for her food to appear, an owl dropped off her copy of the Daily Prophet. She blinked seeing a photograph of herself and Harry, but reading the headline woke her up abruptly.<p>

**Harry Potter Enticed by Hermione Granger, Again**

**The Daily Prophet can exclusively report it appears that Hermione Granger is unable to keep her hands off married hero Harry Potter, again. We have reports that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are carrying out a sordid affair and have been spending nights together at Hogwarts, where Miss Granger currently holds the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and spending nights together at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Our sources tell us that Miss Granger preyed on Harry Potter after finding out his wife, award winning quidditch player Ginny Potter, was pregnant.**

**This is not the first time that muggle born Hermione Granger has been romantically linked with the boy who lived; it is believed that they dated during the last Triwizard tournament, but she ended their relationship to be with internationally renowned Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum, but it appears that Miss Granger's hunger for powerful men has brought her back to the married Harry Potter. Some people may say that it is not up to us to judge other people's personal lives, but it brings into question the integrity and morals of someone who many look up to, someone who has influence on our children. There is no doubt that Miss Granger is certainly intelligent and beautiful, but do we really want our children being taught by someone so amoral?**

**Since graduating top of her year from Hogwart's School of Wizarding, Miss Granger moved up the career ladder rapidly at the Ministry of Magic's Defence Against the Dark Arts Department during her two years there. It is rumoured that she used more than her skills at magic to charm her way up the ladder so quickly. But working for the Ministry was unable to satisfy Miss Granger and she was recruited by the secretive private defence company Barriers. At Barriers Miss Granger held the position of a high ranking chief of one of their major sectors, but due to the secretive nature of the corporation it is unknown which sector, but it is believed that Miss Granger was earning a high six figure salary. She took a surprising turn in career this summer when she became a new member of staff at Hogwart's School of Wizarding as the Professor of DefenceAgainst the Dark Arts. (Story continued on pages 3-5).**

Hermione couldn't decide whether to be disgusted by the article or to laugh at the absurdity of it. Placing the newspaper down she finally saw the looks given to her by the students and realised that she couldn't just treat the ridiculous story the same way she had in the past. She had worked hard to gain the respect the pupils and her colleagues and she wasn't going to let the article ruin that for her, but that meant that she was going have to talk about the damn thing. Looking around, she could see that the students were throwing surreptitious glances her way. Well, why not deal with it right now whilst everyone was in the same room. After taking a large gulp of her orange juice, she took a deep breath and stood up and called for everyone's attention.

Fleur felt helpless, not knowing what she could do to help Hermione. She knew that Hermione valued the respect of her students, she had caught glimpses of Hermione teaching and she had smiled at the passion with which she taught and she had seen the respect and trust that she had garnered from staff and students alike. She grimaced at the thought that that was what she had been reduced to, taking the longer route to her classroom, hoping to be able to catch glimpses of the brunette, but she was unable to stop herself. Hermione had somehow reduced her to behaving like a teenager and it irked her, especially knowing that the feelings weren't completely unreciprocated. But she was couldn't stop herself looking at her, couldn't stop herself wanting to trace the Englishwoman's face with her fingers, it had changed a lot since she was last able to. The final traces of adolescence had been erased and in its place was a beautiful young woman. And she couldn't help herself wanting to do something, anything to help her now, the article had made her feel sick with the lies that she knew it told.

"Could I have everyone's attention please? Excuse me, could I have you attention please?" She waited for everyone to settle and felt prickles of nervousness as all eyes turned to her.

"I think most of you have seen this article by the Daily Prophet this morning," she raised her copy of the newspaper. "I just wanted to take the opportunity whilst everyone is here to tell you that what it says is untrue, Harry Potter is one of my closest friends, but we are only friends, nothing more. I don't know why they would write things like this, but the rumours are untrue."

Fleur could seeing Hermione fiddle nervously with her glass of orange juice, and could see that many of the students were not entirely convinced by Hermione's words. But this she could help with.

All heads turned at the sound of wood scraping stone as Fleur pushed her chair back and stood upright, walking slowly towards Hermione. Fleur saw the brown eyes widen slightly and her fingers tighten around her glass, but she responded with a small smile and saw Hermione's eyes soften. The silence in the hall was palpable and Fleur utilised it with years of experience. The click of her heels were deliberately loud, her footsteps slow. When she reached Hermione, she placed her hand on Hermione's arm, feeling the quiver underneath the robe.

"I do not think that anyone 'ere would be foolish enough to believe these silly stories Professor Granger."

She knew that her voice carried clearly throughout the hall, knew that by publically showing support, her own popularity with the students, along with her thrall, would help to dispel most people's doubts about Hermione's honesty. She was satisfied when she saw the students break into chatter and carry on with their breakfast. As she turned to return to her unfinished breakfast, she felt a soft hand grab hold of her own. Turning, she saw Hermione open her mouth, hesitating. Fleur savoured the feeling of her own hand in Hermione's, trying to resist the urge to rub her thumb against Hermione's hand. Her own eyes fixed on Hermione's troubled gaze.

"Thank you." She could see that Hermione knew what she had purposely done, she knew that Hermione could read everything about her and she didn't know how to stop her.

"You would 'ave done the same for me 'ermione. If you need someone to talk to, I'm always...here." She couldn't help her gaze falling to Hermione's lips, her body remembered the softness of her lips, the gentleness of her kisses.

She felt Hermione squeeze her hand gently before releasing it, the rush of air cold against her skin. Hermione sat down, her hand tingling from the contact, looking at the porridge which lay in front of her, her appetite gone. Down the table, Fleur was looking at the remainder half of her croissant dispassionately, the only thing she wanted she was somehow unable to have. Separated by only a few places, they both push their food around, thoughts lost elsewhere, both thinking about the same thing.

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><p><em><strong>Hermione,<strong>_

_**I read the article in the Daily Prophet yesterday and know that it was all a load of rubbish. I'll always believe in you. Every day I hope to hear good news from you, and I'll continue to wait.**_

_**All my love,**_

_**Ron**_

Hermione sighed and tossed the letter onto a growing pile on her desk. Ron had owled her a letter every single day since she had seen him in Hogsmeade. Always on crimson parchment, always with the same phrases:

_**Hermione,**_

_**I'll wait for you. I love you.**_

_**All my love,**_

_**Ron**_

She hadn't replied to any of his letters, there was nothing to write, but for some reason she was unable to throw them into the fire where she felt they belonged. And so they collected in a crimson tower on her desk.

A knock on the portrait covered door make her jump, she wasn't expecting anyone.

"Come in." The portrait swung open and Hermione nearly knocked over her bottle of ink in surprise when she recognised the visitor. Apart from her dark red hair now being styled in waves, and a wedding band on the left ring finger, there had been very little change in the appearance of Ginny Weasley.

"G...Ginny!"

"It's been a while Hermione," she replied, a distinct lack of smile on her face.

"Ginny, listen, that article yesterday-"

"I know it's not true."

"Oh." Hermione was confused as to why Ginny had come to see her. Their last meeting had been highly unpleasant, the fiery redhead had had to be restrained as she tried to slap an unresisting Hermione; an uneasy truce had been built between them for Harry's sake, but she knew Ginny had hated her for what she had done to her brother. Hermione searched her mind to find something to say, and after coming up with nothing, resorted to the English's answer for everything.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Sure, thanks. Umm...do you mind if i sit?" Ginny asked gesturing to the chairs.

"Of course, take a seat!" Hermione busied herself with the kettle, curious as to why Ginny was in the castle.

She passed a steaming mug of tea to Ginny and sat down in the armchair next to fire, opposite Ginny, who remained silent.

"Look Ginny, I really am sorry about what I did to Ron-"

"It's fine Hermione. It was years ago. I'm...I'm sorry for how I reacted." The redhead took a sip of her tea, eyes focused on the photo above the fireplace.

"I deserved it, there's no excuse for what I did."

"Let's not talk about it. I'm actually here because...well...I wanted you to know that I didn't believe anything that stupid newspaper wrote about you and Harry. And I'm worried that there's more behind it."

"You're worried there's more behind it? I don't know what you mean," frowned Hermione.

"The article wasn't completely untrue about everything..."Ginny replied slowly.

Hermione nodded in agreement, she had been surprised about how much they had known about her job at Barriers.

"I'm pregnant."

"You are? Wow, that's amazing! Congratulations! I bet Harry's over the moon!" Hermione started to get up to give Ginny a hug, before remembering the situation between them and sat back in her seat awkwardly.

"Thanks," she smiled finally, reminding Hermione of the girl she used to call a best friend. "The thing is, I only told Harry and my family over the weekend, no one else should know...I just wanted to be sure about it. And then that article appeared on Monday mentioning my pregnancy...maybe they just thought they made it up with the rest of that crap about the affair, but I worry..."she trailed off.

A frown crossed Hermione's feature, the conclusion she came too didn't make sense, was something that she was sure couldn't happen. She worried about phrasing the next question.

"You think that...the article may be something to do with someone in your..."

"Family. Yeah," Ginny finished bluntly.

"Ginny, I really can't imagine anyone in your family doing this."

"Neither can I, but the timing's too much of a coincidence. I dunno, maybe it was just a coincidence...but Harry told me about what happened to you and Ron recently..."

"You think Ron has something to do with the article? No! He would never hurt Harry like that!" Hermione could feel her mind turning over as she said that, but she couldn't believe that Ron was capable of such behaviour. Ginny raised an eyebrow,

"I notice you didn't say he could never hurt you like that."

"I...I don't think he would hurt me like that. " Her eyes flickered to the pile of crimson letters on her desk, it seemed impossible that someone could say that they wanted her and want to hurt her so maliciously at the same time. "Besides, he loves Harry like a brother, and of course there's you. He would never hurt his own family."

Ginny sighed, leaning back in her seat, unconsciously rubbing her hand gently over her still flat stomach.

"I don't think he would hurt me either...but he knew about the pregnancy. And he's been different since...well...since what happened with you and losing Fred. He kinda withdrew into himself, but he'd have these temper outbursts sometimes even over really little things. And the temper outbursts scared everyone in my family, but we all just thought it was grief. They stopped a couple of years ago, and he became more like the old Ron, but still...maybe he's not the same...Merlin, I can't believe I'm saying this about my own brother."

A heavy sense of self reproach settled in Hermione's heart as she listened to the changes to Ron, there was no way in which she could not feel at least partly responsible.

"I didn't know that, I'm sorry, Harry never told me about any of this. But still, I really don't think Ron would do something like this. With what he said to me and then doing something like that, he'd have to be playing a really sadistic game of sorts and I don't accept that he would do something like that. Are you sure your family just didn't tell other people about your pregnancy...you know how news travels in the magical community, and you being so well known too."

"They promised me that they wouldn't tell anyone until I announced it, I want to wait until the quidditch season is over, we only have the final game left. You're right, it probably was just a coincidence, I can't see Ron doing any of this, maybe hormones are making me overthink things," she shrugged, smiling awkwardly. A brief silence fell over the room as neither woman knew what to say.

"Are you excited about the pregnancy?"

Ginny grinned in response.

"Yeah, super excited! And scared stupid too about the birth and also about being a mother, it makes you realise that you won't be responsible just for yourself anymore, there's another whole life you're responsible for! But I think, overall, right now everything is just beginning to sink in, we have plenty of time yet." Ginny stood up abruptly, a blush staining her cheeks. "Anyway, I better go, you're probably busy. I'd just wanted to...well...you know."

Hermione was dismayed by the sudden urge to leave, she had fleetingly thought that they would be able to become friends again, maybe hurting Ron had just been too high a price to forgive. She stood up forcing a smile on her face.

"Thank you for your concern. And congratulations again about the baby." Ginny smiled in reply before taking a few steps towards the door. She stopped when she had her hand on the door handle, turning around to look at Hermione.

"I really enjoyed talking to you again Hermione. I'd forgotten how easy it was to talk to you, I've really missed having a close female friend. Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

A wide smile crossed appeared on Hermione's face as she nodded.

"I'd really like that."

Ginny smiled shyly, her green eyes glinting mischievously.

"Me too." A loud knock on the door made them both jump. Ginny opened the door, the smile on her face becoming a poisonous glare in a split second. The small smile on Fleur's face faltered as she saw who it was, the colour draining from her face. Ginny didn't say anything, just looked at the Frenchwoman with abject loathing. She turned her head, glancing between Hermione and Fleur pointedly, a questioning look on her face before giving Hermione cold eyes before walking out of the door, intentionally brushing roughly past Fleur.

Fleur realised immediately that her timing had been disastrous, seeing the dejected expression on Hermione's face as she watched the redhead walk away.

"Merde. Je suis desolee." The sound of Fleur's voice knocked Hermione out of her reverie as she found a contrite looking woman in front of her.

"Come in," Hermione rubbed her face tiredly, as she perched on the edge of a chair.

"I 'ave errr...brought you a little gift. I just thought that you may want something to 'elp cheer you up after all that bile that people 'ave sent you this morning, ces idiots," her accent becoming more pronounced as she became annoyed at the memory.

"You know what I was sent this morning?" Hermione asked, an eyebrow risen in askance. She had only opened one of the numerous letters that had arrived that morning, in the hall, and been unable to comprehend the amount of the hatred spewed towards Hermione. She knew that many of the other letters would contain similar sentiments and had decided to open them back in her own room so she could quickly throw them in the fire. A large pile of ash in the centre of the fire was testament to the amount of hatred the newspaper article had generated.

"I saw your face this morning when you opened the letter during breakfast_." And I wanted to hold you when you looked like you wanted to cry. _Fleur proffered a small crumpled white bag.

Hermione laughed delightedly when she saw it, knowing what was inside. It was the first time she had laughed in a long time, and it felt so good. Fleur grinned lopsidedly, extending her arm to give Hermione her gift. Hermione opened the white bag, laughing again as the mass of gummi bears confirmed her suspicion. Without thinking she took out a green one and brought it up to Fleur's lips. The laughter died as they both felt the intimacy of the gesture.

Fleur quickly took the gummi bear in her mouth, nearly choking on it, averting her eyes from Hermione, who saw the darkening of blue in the blonde's eyes. Equally flustered, Hermione quickly created distance between them, placing the crumpled bag on her desk.

"I should go, it is becoming late. And I am sorry about earlier, I know that I 'ave made it difficult between you and Ginevra."

"It's ok, I think I was hoping for too much too early with Ginny. And thank you for the gift, it means a lot what you've done for me."

"I 'ave done very little." She paused. "And I meant what I said yesterday, if you need to talk..."

"Thanks," Hermione replied quietly. She watched the door close behind the Frenchwoman, appearing to close out all happiness with it. But then she caught a glimpse of the bag on her desk and felt of glimmer of something inside her. She wasn't sure what, but it wasn't something bad.


	13. Chapter 13

_Ma Cherie Gabrielle,_

_How are you doing? How is my nephew? Are you and Armand enjoying parenthood? Thank you for the wine, it was delicious, made me want to come back to France and spend time with the family. How are maman and papa? I bet they're doting on their first grandchild and hopefully helping out so you and Armand can catch up on the sleep that I'm sure you're losing at night! But I know you are loving being a mother, when I saw you holding __Émile__ in your arms after he was born, and my dear brother in law by your side, I have never seen you so content. And I was so happy for you, and, I must admit, very envious! But I know that one day I will have my own family. Talking about having my own family I have something that I have not told you about, I did not want you to have the additional worry on top of being a new mother, because I know you will worry about me even if I tell you not to! _

_I'm sure you remember Hermione Granger, well, we work together now. We are both teachers at Hogwarts, both new to teaching this year. And it is making life very difficult for me! Before you ask, no, we are not back together again, we have not slept together (I'm well aware of how that mind of yours works, despite that innocent face of yours!) although we did kiss briefly...well...rather I forced a kiss when we were arguing, but that was the only one. My feelings for her had not diminished since I last saw her; I hadn't realised it, but it was it was the opposite! When I saw her when the first day I arrived here in the castle, she literally took my breath away when I saw her! I'm well aware that I sound like some horrific romance novel, but this is what she's somehow turned me into, driving me to behave almost like a teenager. A teenager that I never was, it was always other people who behaved like that towards me! I suppose that's life's way of making things even. _

_The reason I'm writing this letter to you is because I don't know what to do. There is something about Hermione that makes my brain unable to function rationally. She pushes me away, she feels guilty for breaking up with Ronald Weasley on the night his brother died and she feels responsible for my divorcel. She feels guilt because we both know that we loved each other then, and no matter how you think about it, we both ended our relationships because of the way we felt about each other. And still feel, I think. I don't think that we did anything wrong, yes the time timing was dreadful, but I still believe it was the right thing to do. But unfortunately she doesn't think like that. I think she loves me, actually I know she still loves me, but she lets me in close then runs away, and I just don't know what to do. To make things worse, I think that she may be back together with Ronald Weasley, I saw them together in Hogsmeade, but sometimes I see glimpses of her that make me believe that she wants to be with me. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't understand why she won't be with me if she loves me, could it really be due to her feelings of guilt or is there another reason? I don't know, maybe I'm too French, too much of a veela to understand, all I know is that if love is reciprocated then wild dragons should not stop you from being together. _

_That is the worse part I think, that she knows that I love her. I can't hide it from her, I'm unable to hide it from her so she knows that it is all up to her. I hate not being in control of the situation, it's not something that I'm used to. I realise that it sounds arrogant, but you know it as well as I do, neither of us have ever had trouble getting the people who have interested us. Until now. After my divorce I tried to forget her you know? But it was impossible, it didn't matter where I went, nothing I did could make me stop thinking about her. When I was in Hong Kong, I remember looking over the city at night, all lit up by the muggle lighting and looking over this stunning cityscape, surrounded by all those people, thinking that I had never ever felt so lonely, all I wished was that I could share it with Hermione. I decided to go to somewhere a bit quieter, decided that I needed somewhere with less people so I went to a remote fishing village in Portugal. There was one day I was on a speedboat (a boat travels very fast using muggle machinery) just skimming over the sea, the sun high in the sky, wind on my face, so far out that the land was just a line in the horizon, surrounded by only water and seabirds, it was absolutely glorious and I felt like I wanted to cry. It didn't matter where I went, I wanted to share it all with Hermione, there was always something that reminded me of her. _

_If things continue the way they are, I don't think I'll renew my contract next year, I enjoy the teaching, but doing it so closely to her makes it too painful. Maybe I will see if I can come teach back in France, and get to spend more time with the rest of you. Recently I even told myself that as long as she was happy, no matter who it was, that it would be enough for me. And I do believe that, but if she is happy with someone else, I don't need to be here to watch it; people may believe I have a cold demeanour, but my heart is not of ice. _

_So dear sister, what do you think? What should I do? _

_All my love,_

_Your sister Fleur_

_Fleur,_

_Look in the mirror and take a careful look at yourself. What do you see? Because from your letter I don't hear my sister, I don't hear the Fleur Delacour that looked out for me and took care of me as we grew up. Do you remember what you always used to tell me? 'If you want something, there's always a way', that's what you said. Are you doing that? It doesn't sound like it, you sound like one of those women in those books, the ones who always wait for their lovers to come to them whilst they act all pathetic and useless. You're part veela, you're a Delacour, but most of all you're Fleur. When have you ever let something or someone get in the way of what you want before? I don't intend to sound too harsh, but if it wasn't for you and your encouragement, I would have never have dared pursued Armand and if I hadn't, we wouldn't be married today and I wouldn't have my son. And so if you love her and she loves you, it's ridiculous that you're almost willing to stand aside. _

_However, I must admit that part of me is fascinated to see if you like this, maybe it is good for you to feel how others have felt, it almost makes you more human. But you're my sister, I want you to be happy. Next time I see you, which hopefully will be very soon, I want to see you hand in hand with Hermione. I won't accept any excuses. _

_Love,_

_Gabrielle_

_P.S. I hope you like the photos I've enclosed of __Émile__ and the family. However, we are missing photos of you and him together, we can't wait until you come home._

_**Hermione Granger Confronted By Wrathful Wife**_

_**Hermione Granger was confronted with outrage and anger from Ginny Potter in response to news about the affair her husband is having with Miss Granger. The photograph above shows the quidditch player storming out of Hogwarts after her confrontation with Miss Granger. We have been informed that despite many letters of concern sent by worried parents, the school has not taken any action against Miss Granger. One parent, who wishes to remain anonymous, has said that lack of action has been due to the influence of another newly appointed member of Hogwart's staff, Professor Fleur Delacour, who has a long history with Miss Granger.**_

_**Miss Delacour, who is quarter veela, is the eldest daughter of the prominent French aristocratic Delacour family. Miss Delacour attended the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France where she excelled in her studies, and combined with a natural beauty and grace, was selected to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, where she first became friends with Miss Granger. After graduating Miss Delacour worked in Gringotts Wizarding Bank where she started dating William Weasley, brother of Ginny Potter; the young couple were soon married, but it was a short lived marriage and amidst accusations of infidelity, they soon divorced. Little is known about the activities of Miss Delacour in the years between the divorce and being appointed the Professor of Potions, with many believing she fled back to a lover in France where she was sheltered from the public's eye by her family's wealth and influence. Since being appointed a teacher in Hogwart's, she has become one of the most popular members of staff, her veela thrall making her many a schoolboy's crush.**_

_**Public opinion is divided on why she is standing by Miss Granger throughout this tasteless matter. If rumours are to be believed and Miss Delacour's marriage failed due to indescretions on her behalf, it is likely that she supports Miss Granger's actions as she obviously does not value the sanctity of marriage. Others argue that William Weasley developed needs that his wife could not fulfil after he was bitten by a werewolf, and her public support of Miss Granger's actions are in a way an act of revenge against his family. (Story continued on page 2)**_

Fleur read the newspaper disdainfully, laughing at the audacity of the article in the Daily Prophet. No longer content on just smearing Hermione's name, they seemed intent on trying to ruin her own reputation. She had particularly enjoyed the paragraph which implied that she the failure of her marriage had left her with an ulterior motive for standing by Hermione.

"Fleur," she heard a voice behind her.

"Bonjour 'ermione. 'ave you read the latest article this morning? If not, you may want to avoid it, there are unflattering photographs of us both in it," she grimaced, throwing the newspaper contemptuously onto the table.

Hermione had already read the article, but her eyes were still drawn to the photographs on the front page. The largest was of an obviously angry Ginny Weasley leaving Hogwart's property; Hermione recognised the outfit from what she had been wearing the time she had last seen her. Another photograph showed a younger Fleur, hollow cheeked, eyes blazing fiercely in a hardened face as she saw the photographer before whipping around and striding away; however there was no denying the beauty of the blonde who was even able to exude a powerful intensity and passion in a photograph. There was a less flattering photograph of herself scowling at something, she had no idea when or where it had been taken although she suspected it was at least a couple of years old.

"Fleur, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologise for something you did not do 'ermione. It is not the first time my name has been in the newspapers and I frankly do not care what they say about me. You will always have my support, publically and privately, I will never change that," she said quietly, looking unwaveringly into Hermione's eyes.

Fleur saw Hermione trying not to tear up and she fought the urge take the young woman in her arms. She knew that the past few days had been difficult for Hermione, they had not spoken since the incident with Ginny, but she had spotted the brunette walking around the castle, a harassed look etched on her face. Gossip amongst the students would again be focused on Hermione, and herself, but whilst she felt confident that the article wasn't going to affect her, she didn't think she could say the same about Hermione.

"Hermione, would you like to have...ummm...dinner with me tomorrow night?"

"What?" Hermione was thrown by the suddenness of the question.

"Just so that you can get some breathing space from the students," she replied quickly, heart sinking as the words left her mouth, thinking of the berating letter she had received back from Gabrielle.

"Ermmm..yeah, I'd love to. Thank you."

"C'est bon. I have some ideas about the whole winter wonderland, mystical wintery theme that we want to do for the Christmas ball. I 'ave spoken to the students who are interested in 'elping out and so if you don't 'ave to rush off to prepare your first lesson, would you mind if I quickly went over it?"

"I have ten minutes."

"Ok, that's great."

Fleur reached for her bag and as she rummaged through it to find her ideas, Hermione found herself smiling. Somehow, all her troubles from the past week and all the gossip that she could see was already circulating around the students eating breakfast didn't bother quite as much as it did before.


	14. Chapter 14

_**I hope you've enjoyed what I've served you so far, that was just the amuse-bouche before I really begin. I'm genuinely sorry for hurting the others, they don't deserve it, but they'd understand if they knew what you've done. And they will know eventually, I'll make sure they know. Right now they don't know how manipulative she is, how she twists and turns and distorts everything she says and does. No one sees it, not even the people that employ her. But they won't want her to teach for much longer. We don't need someone like that bitch corrupting our future. The children don't need to be taught by someone who can tell someone that they love them in one breath, only to leave them in the next breath. I'll make sure that she gets what she deserves, that everyone will find out what she did. She shouldn't have taken what's mine. I've seen the way she looks at her. And I'll make sure she can't have her. But I'm not in a rush. She'll be the last thing I take, I want to see everything else broken first. Maybe then she'll realise that she can't take what isn't hers.**_


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you for all your continual support despite the long wait! New job and real life...they can be distracting. I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Cheers.

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><p>Hermione flopped onto her bed, exhausted. The past two days had crawled by, perpetually followed by whispering and surreptious glances from her students. She savoured the quiet of her room, enjoying the pitter patter of the raindrops hitting her windows. She turned her head, looking out of the windows, grey clouds extending as far as the eye could see, throwing her room into gloom. Moving her head slightly, her eyes fell on the photographs on her bedside cabinet. Taking a prominent place next to one of her family, there was one of Harry, Ron and herself. She wasn't sure who had taken the photograph, but it was one she loved. It had been taken during their final year, when the state of perpetual fear and anticipation had been naturally exhausted and cast aside briefly, allowing them to behave like the teenagers that they were. In the photograph they were all too thin, but were all laughing, jostling each other playfully as they posed for the photograph; for a few moments they had allowed themselves to forget the danger they were all in and had let themselves go, their hopes and aspirations glimmering in their eyes.<p>

Hermione felt like crying, knowing that the friendship between the three of them would never be like that, and even though it had been years, she still yearned for that friendship, but with what Ron wanted, she knew that it was impossible. Growing up had made life so more difficult. Thinking of difficult things, she was beginning to regret her decision to have dinner with Fleur that evening. Things had been going so well between the two of them recently, too well for Hermione's comfort in fact. Glancing at the photograph on her cabinet, seeing Ron's laughing face, she felt a sense of futility. Nothing she did was right. Perhaps she should cancel. But the thought of an evening with Fleur, away from the whispers and the looks, away from constantly feeling like she had to proclaim her innocence was too tempting.

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><p>Fleur had just finished setting the table when she heard the knock on the door. She smiled when Hermione walked in, drinking in the sight of the brunette; she wore skinny black trousers, an oversized sheer, maroon chiffon blouse tucked loosely into the waistband, a delicate, long chained gold necklace drawing eyes to the opening of the shirt, where a hint of the curves of the breasts could be seen, her feet encased in pale pink and cream pumps, finished with her hair in slight waves, loose over her shoulders. Fleur could feel her stomach tighten in knots, she had never wanted anyone as badly as she wanted Hermione right now.<p>

"You look...tres belle," keeping her voice deliberately light, hoping her body language wasn't betraying her. She leant over and kissed Hermione on both cheeks, the smell of clean warm skin and a light perfume more than inviting.

"So do you. This is for you, to say thank you," smiling as she proffered a long wooden box.

"It is unnecessary, mais merci." Fleur took the box, surprised at the weight of its contents. Sliding the lid upwards, she found a bottle of wine nestled in a bed of wood shavings. She looked up, one eyebrow raised, sliding the lid back into place.

"I can't accept this, it is too much, especially as there has been no need to thank me."

"Take it. Please. I know you're a big fan of that vintage, and besides, I don't know anyone that appreciates a glass of red wine as much as you."

"In that case you have to have dinner with me again, I shall provide a meal fitting for an 'eighty nine Montrose and we will enjoy it together."

"Deal."

Fleur glanced from the box in her hand to Hermione, eyes narrowed in thought.

"The newspaper articles, they're not completely untrue about everything are they?"

Hermione blushed slightly, shrugging,

"I can afford to live comfortably thanks to my old job."

"Are you hungry yet? If not, we can enjoy a glass of wine first," she asked, hoping for the latter, needing something to distract her from Hermione.

"Wine would be lovely, thank you."

Hermione perched on the edge of a seat near the fire, eyes focused on Fleur's back, wishing she'd taken the easier option of eating in the great hall, or in her rooms, anywhere but so close to Fleur who looked absolutely stunning. The Frenchwoman was dressed in skin tight black trousers which accentuated every curve, an emerald green, sleeveless silk blouse which only drew the eyes to the slender, well defined arms of the owner, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, accentuating the smooth, fluid lines of the delicate muscles of the neck.

She could feel the brunette's eyes on her, and it was making her uncharacteristically nervous. Just knowing that she was a few mere steps away from her. The look in Hermione's eyes…she had seen that look in Hermione's eyes before…it was the look that made her to toss and turn in her empty bed at night, a look that made her writhe restlessly in her sleep-

Fleur felt the wine bottle fall onto its side before her eyes registered what happened, and as she reached to stop the bottle rolling off the table, she was surprised when her hand touched warm skin. Looking up she found Hermione stood next to her, brown eyes laughing, her hand unmoving beneath her own, the cold glass of the bottle underneath them.

"If you're having trouble with the corkscrew you could always use magic or just ask me to help, no need to try and break the bottle you know?" Hermione teased, watching in fascination as a deep blush stained the blonde's cheeks.

A flustered Fleur could only nod in agreement, her thoughts racing. She had been so distracted by Hermione that she hadn't been able to focus on the task at hand, she doubted whether anyone with Veela heritage had ever been as ungraceful as she had just been right now and what if Hermione knew what she had been thinking about that had made her so distracted-

She felt a gentle tugging on her hand and found Hermione taking the corkscrew from her, obviously trying to suppress a grin. She could feel the painful blush on her cheeks deepen, watching Hermione uncork the bottle of wine quickly and efficiently, laughing when Hermione took her open hand and lightly placed the cork in it, closing Fleur's fingers around it.

"If you need, I'm sure I could teach you how to use a corkscrew," she laughed, pouring them both generous amounts of wine, giving Fleur a moment to collect herself.

"Why do you use a corkscrew, I've never seen any other non muggle related witch or wizard use them before, everyone else just uses magic?"

She followed Fleur to the fireplace, settling comfortably opposite each other.

"There is something about uncorking a bottle by hand that is...'ow do you say...meaningful to me. Every bottle, even those from the same grape taste slightly different, and well, I feel that uncorking it, getting the first scent of that wine is as important as the taste. And they say smell is what evokes memories, no? I can be sentimental sometimes." She gave a Gallic shrug, not knowing why she had felt the need to explain herself so thoroughly.

"Oh. I'd never thought about it that way. It's...it's nice." Hermione looked at her glass of wine with interest. Tipping the glass towards her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled the bouquet, eyes flaring open and stomach clenching as smell did indeed evoke memories.

Catching the look of alarm on Hermione's face, Fleur lifted the glass to her nose, heart suddenly pounding in her chest at the familiar scent of wine made from the vineyard on her family's estate. Wine that was made only for her family's consumption, wine that Hermione would have tasted that night...Fleur had been so distracted by Hermione that she had picked up the wrong bottle of wine. She was afraid to say anything, afraid to even move, waiting to see what Hermione would do next.

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><p><em>"I don't understand wine, it all tastes the same to me," she said raising an eyebrow, laughing as Fleur pulled a face in mock horror.<em>

_"Tu es Anglaise, you only have mead and beer, you do not have the refined palate of us French people-" she smirked as she ducked quickly to avoid the pillow aimed at her head, only to be hit by it from behind as the pillow swerved back to its target._

_"You're using magic, that is cheating! Ok, ok, call off the pillow, I admit that la Anglaise have good taste too, they do 'ave Sunday roast after all!" She sat back catching her breath, grinning at the brunette. Grinning back, Hermione reached over, brushing the tousled blonde hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. As she pulled her hand away, Fleur took it with her own, bringing the hand to her lips, lips brushing the top of the slender hand, grin softened to a tender smile._

_Hermione went pink with pleasure, lifting her hand to Fleur's face as she traced the outline of the woman's bones with her fingers for what could have been the hundredth time._

_"It's good to see that English-French attitudes towards each other haven't improved very much in the past few hundred years, keeps tradition going really," Hermione laughed softly, fingers trailing over the proud nasal bridge of Fleur's Veela heritage. "And Fleur?"_

_"Hmm?" _

_"Mead?" Hermione burst into a fit of giggles, pulling the blonde close for a short kiss, before breaking away into another fit of giggles._

_"Oui. That is a traditional English drink, non?"_

_"Perhaps in the Medieval times. And if you were an invading Viking most likely. Although I'm fairly sure it was drank all throughout Europe for thousands of years, particularly in ancient Greece, anywhere you could get water and honey I suppose-"_

_"'ermione?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I take it mead isn't a traditional English beverage then? What am I thinking of then? And 'ow do you know so much about mead anyway?" Fleur kissed the inside of Hermione's wrist, enjoying the tremble that she caused in the brunette._

_"Sorry, I was babbling again wasn't I? I think you're thinking of ale-"_

_"Ah oui! Ale, that is the one!" _

_"And as to how I know so much about mead...I've no idea, must have read it somewhere," she shrugged, smiling. "You should really stop me when I'm babbling you know, otherwise I may go on for a while!"_

_"I like it. It's cute," she smiled widely, enjoying the effect her compliment had on the younger woman's complexion. "Well, mademoiselle Granger, shall I help you develop your palate to the standards of a- ouch! Ok, will you let me expose your tastebuds to le magnifique flavours of wine, I guarantee you will like my lesson, my teaching methods have been developed with specifically you in mind?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in invitiation. _

_"This won't be a pretentious smell the wine, swish it round your mouth kind of teaching will it?" Hermione asked slowly, a smile growing on her face in response to the glint in Fleur's eyes._

_"Non. Well...a little. But my teaching techniques for this wine appreciation course has been developed specifically with you in mind mademoiselle Granger. It 'as taken much time and effort, oooo...approximately the last five minutes, to develop a method that will best facilitate this teaching. Would you like to learn?"_

_"Don't I always want to learn?" The smile that curved across the brunette's face made her shiver in anticipation. She theatrically cleared her throat, keeping herself covered with the sheet as she turned around and reached for the glass of red wine on the bedside cabinet, handing it to Hermione._

_"Smell it. Swirl it in the glass gently, that way you will get the full aroma," she began, smiling. Hermione smirked, but obliged, eyes closed as she smelt the sharp, sweet tang of wine, listening to Fleur's soft voice._

_"The wine you 'ave in your 'and isn't a wine you'll be able to buy anywhere, it is bottled from the vineyards on the family estate. We do produce wine from other vineyards that are intended for public sale, but never this one. Tradition dictates that it is only for the Delacour family and those they care about, although we're not sure where that came from. Wine - "_

_"So I'm privileged to be drinking this wine then, is that what you're saying?" grinned Hermione._

_"As I said ma belle, only for the Delacour family and those they care about," she replied, eyes on Hermione's as she kissed the inside of the brunette's palm, tongue flicking across the inside of the delicate wrist, a familiar feeling beginning to uncurl in her stomach, seeing the brunette swallow._

_"Back to the task at hand. Wine always smells different to different people, ignore what the critics say, tell me what you can smell?"_

_Hermione glanced at the wine skeptically, before shrugging and closing her eyes, bringing the glass to her nose. She could smell the sharp scent of the grapes, a fruity sweet smell tempered by something earthy, almost wood-like and...freshly cut grass?_

_"I'm certainly not an expert in wines, but they don't usually smell of freshly cut grass do they?"_

_"One of your favourite smells."_

_"Yes. Did I tell you that before?"_

"_Non. But this wine will always smell different to everyone, it will always reflect a little of what we love – stop laughing at me, I am part Veela, we believe in love and passion, even for our wine. Now we move onto taste," she smiled._

_Fleur took a small sip of the wine, being careful to wet her lips, placing the glass back onto the cabinet. Leaning leisurely on her elbow, she bent her head to kiss Hermione, colouring her lips with the wine, moaning as she felt Hermione's tongue pushing its way into her mouth. Pulling away, a little breathless, she let the sheet fall away, tugging it down Hermione's body, fingers leaving a blazing trail as they ran across the bare flesh._

_"Lie still," she commanded, enjoying the raised eyebrow that Hermione gave her as she obeyed. Hermione gasped as the cold liquid touched her stomach, muscles visibly tensing._

_"Lie still 'ermione. Don't spill the wine in your navel."_

_"And if I do..."_

_"Well, I may 'ave to reprimand you severely for that," she smirked, biting the tender flesh of Hermione's neck lightly, smiling at the intake of breath. _

_And as her lips and hands travelled across the brunete's body, as she tasted wine and salt, the wine was gradually forgotten, neither of them noticing as the wine trickled from Hermione's navel, staining the crisp white sheets a crimson bloom, staining both their skins._

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><p>Looking up, Hermione could see the quickened flicker of the pulse in Fleur's neck, the only visible sign that she was afraid. And that she remembered what Hermione remembered.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

I'm extremely grateful to the continual support that I'm receiving, knowing that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing this!

On a quick note, to the reviewer that noted that Gabrielle may be a tad young to have a child (although 16/17 isn't a particularly shocking age to have kids in England - whether that's a good or bad thing is another issue), that is entirely my fault for forgetting she's about ten years younger than Fleur, I hadn't realised the extent of the age gap previously, so I hope I can use my writer's privilege and assume that Gabrielle is a few years older than she would really be :)

Thanks to all for reading and reviewing!

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><p>Would there ever just be honesty between them? Constant lies, white lies, blatant lies, lies to each other, lies to themselves, full lies, half lies, truth tempered with lies. But to speak the truth would expose them to consequences. One more lie. She smiled shakily, placing the glass of wine down, hiding her face momentarily.<p>

"Wine just smells like wine to me, I think I'm too old to learn to appreciate it now."

Fleur replied with a weak smile of her own. If she didn't smile now, she wouldn't be able to stop the tears if they started. Suddenly it was all a mistake. Inviting Hermione to dinner was a mistake. Moving to Britain was a mistake, accepting the job had been a mistake. Having met Hermione had been a mistake. At this moment, all she wanted was Hermione to leave, to never set her eyes on the Englishwoman ever again. But even as those feelings threatened to overwhelm her, a treacherous part of her panicked at the thought of never seeing those brown eyes again, to never hear that voice again.

"Come. If you can't appreciate wine, I at least hope you'll be able to appreciate my food. The house elves weren't too 'appy when I wanted to make a mess in their kitchen, but once they knew that it was for you, they couldn't 'ave been more obliging. They vie to make your food you know? After all that you 'ave done for them, they can't do enough for you," stated Fleur, trying to keep her voice steady as she moved, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth as she turned away from the brunette, sitting on a chair at the table.

Hermione hesitated briefly before following, a heavy feeling in her heart, both feeling the lie lingering between them.

"I didn't do anything for them that they shouldn't have been entitled to from the beginning, I just managed to get it down in writing. Plus after their contribution in the war, I think people finally saw that they were beings just like the rest of us, not just indentured servants, so there wasn't much resistance."

"There was enough resistance that it made the 'eadlines, even in France." Fleur tried to just concentrate on the conversation at hand, trying not to think about anything else.

"I said there wasn't much resistance, not that there wasn't any. But there's always resistance to any change." _Even when you want the change, there's even resistance within yourself_. "Besides, it was short lived, their arguments were poorly constructed and had no real basis. The house elves deserved to have their rights enshrined in wizarding law, and I was just happened to be a position to be able to help with that," Hermione shrugged.

"You've made considerable progression since…what was that elf rights group you founded when you were a student? I cannot remember the name of it."

"The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," laughed Hermione self-consciously. "Not the most successful thing I did."

"I disagree. You took those ideals and eventually managed to get them put into law, I would say that was rather successful! Mais, it doesn't matter what you say, the 'ouse elves are very grateful to you. I 'ope you are ok with the food, although it would most likely be tastier if I had let the 'ouse elves make it! To start with we 'ave abricot Chambord brie."

Beautiful golden pastries appeared in front of the women, the glaze drizzled over the pastries and along the side of the china plate. Hermione took a bite of the puff pastry with some filling, enjoying the caramelised flavours of the apricots and apples mixing with the soft, warm brie, the pecans giving the starter some variation in texture.

"Mmmm…this is delicious! Wait, did you say you made this?"

"Oui. I'm glad you're it enjoying, I was worried the brie may be too rich for you," replied Fleur, pleased with her efforts as she took a bite herself.

Hermione took another mouthful, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.

"I don't know why it always surprises me that you can cook, despite knowing that you can. I suppose you just don't strike me as someone who cooks, never mind someone who cooks so well! Is there anything you don't do well Fleur?" she teased, spearing another piece with her fork.

"If it is just for me, I'd rather not bother and just have cereal or toast, but when there is someone to cook for, I feel far more motivated. It is gratifying knowing that someone enjoys the food that I made. "

"Well, I'm really enjoying this. Fleur…"

"Oui?"

"Thank you," the look of gratitude in Hermione's eyes soothed some of Fleur's early panic.

"You 'ave to stop thanking me, dinner is nothing. A break in the routine for me too." She reached out to cover the brunette's hand with her own, quickly changing her mind at the last minute, grabbing hold of her glass of wine instead. Lies are not always in the words, some lies are in our actions. "You ready for the next course?"

"Yes, I'm excited to see what you made."

Two clean plates appeared in front of the women along with clean, glistening cutlery. Multiple dishes appeared between them, all emanating enticing smells.

"We 'ave moules marinières, risotto de potimarron et parmesan, filet de bar frais sur puree de pois et coulis de poivron rouge and salade verte. Please, 'elp yourself."

"Fleur, how many people did you intend on feeding?"

Fleur shrugged nonchalantly, a pink tinge high on her cheekbones giving away her embarrassment.

"I always believe that too much is better than too little. Besides," she glanced at Hermione, a faint grin on her face, "I wasn't sure what you wanted to eat, so I made a selection."

"Well it all looks amazing! A little eclectic, but amazing."

"Merci. Well, I think a toast is required," she replied, raising her glass of wine. "May the future be brighter. For both of us." Hermione paused briefly, a peculiar look in her eyes, before clinking her glass of water against the wine glass.

"A votre santé Fleur," the English witch said quietly.

"Cheers Hermione," replied the blonde.

Both women were quiet for a couple of minutes as they tried all the dishes, Hermione's mmms and ahhhs of approval making Fleur laugh to herself.

"This is all delicious, I don't even know what I like most. The butternut squash risotto is superbly tasty as is the sea bass and mussels. Perhaps you should forget teaching and take up cooking instead! What's that with the sea bass, the pureed thing? Tastes like peas."

"Pureed creamed peas."

"Who knew the humble pea could be so delicious? It's official, you have the Hermione Granger seal of approval!" Hermione goofily gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up, making Fleur laugh loudly.

"Merci beaucoup. I shall resign from teaching and with your seal of approval, I will take the culinary world by storm," she said seriously, eyes twinkling playfully.

"They'd be lucky to have you. Anyone would…"she trailed off, suddenly becoming extremely interested in her risotto.

_You could have me Hermione, I would be the lucky one. _

"So, 'ave you thought about who at the Daily Prophet is targeting you? The Prophet is not the most accurate paper admittedly, but the stuff about you recently 'as been malicious, and the writer 'as been anonymous. Do you think it may be that Skeeter woman, the one who wrote all that rubbish at the Triwizard Tournament?" asked Fleur, steering the conversation from dangerous waters.

"Rita Skeeter knows that it wouldn't be worth her career if she wrote malicious things about my friends or me."

Fleur looked at Hermione in askance.

"Don't ask. She just knows I wouldn't put up with any idle gossip from her."

"You need to be careful, this person really does not like you. That photograph of Ginevra, they're keeping a close eye on things."

"I know, but what can I really do? It'll blow over once they get bored. I really don't want to talk about that right now if you don't mind, this is my escape. Let's talk about something else. Do you enjoying being a teacher?"

"Oui. It's...rewarding. Also frustrating, headache inducing, coupled with occasions where I want to transfigure some of the students into small rodents. But I do love it. Strange to think that I'd never considered it before! And you?"

"I feel pretty much the same as you do. I'd never really considered it either before Professor McGonagall offered me the position, which makes me wonder why she thought I'd be interested. But it's very satisifying when you see things clicking in the students' brains...it wasn't that long ago when that was me sat there. Why did you take the job?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me why you took the job. From what I read you've had successful career after successful career."

Fleur saw the brunette reach out for her glass of wine, before changing her mind and taking the glass of water instead.

"I'd hardly say a couple of years in each job constitutes as a career, but it's true, I did fairly well in each of them. But...there was...it's silly...I don't know how to say it," she faltered, taking a drink of water.

"You're many things 'ermione, but silly isn't one of the words I'd used to describe you. Just say what you want to say, I promise I won't tell the Daily Prophet," she smirked. Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling in return.

"The job in the Ministry...I thought I would be able to change things, help people, make a difference to their lives...and I did, to a small degree. But there was so much bureaucracy for each single tiny change, so much fighting and red tape, too many powerful people with big egos and small minds. I'd already had my fill of fighting, I just didn't have the appetite or desire for more of it. Within an hour of handing in my resignation, I had a job offer from Barriers which I took, they'd apparently kept an eye out for me. And the job was good, I was able to research and create as much as I liked, as long as it was to complete the client's wish, I had a great team of people to work with, the money was generous, but it just lacked...it lacked heart. It was fairly important work, a lot of defense work for private clients as well as the ministry, but just wasn't for me, the work felt so cold and meticulous. I realise it's silly giving up such a well paid job because of a feeling-"

"I don't think that it's silly. You should be passionate about what you do."

"Well that's my reason. Your turn."

_I thought that if I was in the same country as you, I'd eventually build up the courage to find you again. Even if I did tell myself that I would never seek you out._ "I was just floating around, travelling, aimlessly, when I was owled the position. After my job at Gringotts, I went back to France and became a banker, an investment banker at that!" she laughed. "Can you imagine me as a banker?"

Hermione's mind instantly conjured up an image of Fleur dressed as a stereotypical muggle banker, in a tailored pinstripped suit, crisp white blouse, hair bound tightly in a neat chignon, a sleek case in hand, an image that was not aesthetically unpleasing.

"The goblins in Paris were no more friendly than the ones in Gringotts, and investment banking, well...a job better suited to the souless dementors. After a few years, I resigned and just travelled, tried to think about what I wanted to do with my life. If I had not been offered the position, I may still be travelling around."

"Well...for what it's worth, I'm...I'm glad you took the job," Hermione replied, eyes unwavering, a tiny smile on her face.

And suddenly there was hope.

"I'm glad I took the job too 'ermione." Fleur took a sip of her wine, her body remembering the touch of it on her skin. She looked away, afraid of her eyes giving her away.

Hermione's delighted laughter made her look back in surprise. Seeing the cake at the end of the table made Fleur smile, remembering the multiple attempts she had needed earlier to bake it successfully.

"Ah, that is the fondant aux poires et au gingembre. I'm not too 'opeful about that one, I don't think baking is one of my natural skills!"

"I'm absolutely stuffed already! But I do love pears and ginger," sighed Hermione, patting her flat stomach. Fleur glanced at the table, blinking in astonishment at the little food that remained, looking at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't look at me with such accusatory eyes Delacour, you put away a fair amount yourself! Good food and good company, does wonders for your appetite," laughed Hermione.

"For someone who is English, you understand a lot of French," noted Fleur, poking at the cake critically with a fork.

Hermione was glad Fleur was too distracted to see her blush, remembering all the hours she had taken private French lessons.

"I've spent many summers in France, my parents loved the country, they planned – I mean, they plan to retire there," her expression clouding over briefly at the thought of her parents.

Fleur looked up from her cake, deliberately keeping her voice neutral.

"'ave you made any more progress with you famille?"

"In all honesty, I've been too afraid to. I've not contacted them since I started working here." Fleur watched Hermione's features tighten, heart constricting in sympathy. She reached out, squeezing Hermione's forearm.

"What is there to be afraid of ma chéri? You said that they are not angry at you and don't blame you for anything." Fleur hoped Hermione wouldn't notice the endearment that had slipped out before she realised what had happened.

"I'm afraid if I try and push things, I won't even have what I have at the moment. There's no logical reason behind that, I know they love me, but I'm terrified of seeing them. It's so awkward. We used to be so close, but now the gulf between us is…vast. It's like suddenly I'm not the same person they knew, I'm suddenly a stranger that lived and loved them. But I am the same person, I'm still their daughter," she finished flatly, eyes averted.

"'ave you tried telling them this?"

"No. I just don't know how to."

"'ow much do they actually know about the wizarding world 'ermione?"

"Hardly anything."

"'ave you thought about bringing them closer, to show them more about the world we live in? You 'ave each foot in completely different worlds, and that can't comfortable. It may 'elp them understand better, and you can show them the other side of you, the magical side of you," the blonde suggested softly, unable to comprehend a life in which her family did not completely support her.

"Yes, maybe. That's a good idea, I can't avoid them forever. Anyway, come one, I want to try the cake you made!" Hermione declared, forcing joviality into her voice. Fleur remained silent, not wanting to press the matter any further. She cut them both small slices, arranging them tidily onto small plates before handing Hermione one.

Fleur looked at the slice dubiously before taking a bite, pulling a face as she chewed. She glanced at Hermione, laughing as she saw Hermione grimacing before trying to readjust her features to a more neutral expression.

"You don't 'ave to be polite 'ermione, c'est terrible," she grinned, poking at the cake despondently, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

"It's not terrible," she chuckled as Fleur looked at her disbelievingly, "It's not. It's just incredibly rich. I feel like I've just taken a mouthful of sugar encased in icing sugar!"

"The terrible taste and plus it has a terrible texture, I don't know how to describe it in English-"

"Claggy," replied Hermione, reddening at the fact that she responded too quickly, making Fleur laugh again.

"Oui, it is. Clag-gy? Claggy," she repeated, uncertain of the pronunciation. "'ave you just made up that word Professor Granger?" she smiled, relieved to hear Hermione laugh.

"No I haven't Professor Delacour! It means stickily, adhesively. The texture of your cake when you eat it really," she smirked. Fleur deigned to reply, instead throwing a piece of cake at Hermione, giggling when it hit her in the forehead.

"I refuse to stoop to your level Fleur," grinned Hermione, acting very much the offended nobility as she wiped her forehead with her napkin.

"Ah, you were always the better person than me. In penance, I will tidy up, go take a seat by the fire and I will bring you some dessert wine."

"No, no, let me tidy up, you cooked, it's only fair for me to tidy!"

"Go sit 'ermione, you are my guest," replied Fleur, gesturing to the seats be the fire. "Besides, I did attack you with food," she smirked.

Curled up on Fleur's armchair, in front of the fire, warm and full, she drowsily watched Fleur tidy up the plates, using magic to clean to table. It was a small task, but the French witch's actions were tidy and precise, her wand work comforting to watch. Suddenly all the poor nights' sleep that she had that week caught up with her. She would just close her eyes momentarily.

Fleur covered her with a woollen blanket. Hermione finally looked relaxed and peaceful, the dark shadows under her eyes reflecting the troubles that she did not want to talk about. Fleur sat in the chair opposite her, drinking the family wine that she had opened accidently earlier on in the evening, eyes focused on the younger woman. She could taste the wine, the hint of memories in its flavour and she could see the lies that they told each other to protect each other, to protect themselves. Watching the woman that she loved sleep, she had never ever felt so lonely.


	17. Chapter 17

Here's the next chapter, hope you guys enjoy. Thanks to everyone who's left feedback, and to everyone who's reading and enjoying this story!

Cheers!

* * *

><p>"Harry! I'm so sorry for all that's happened!" Hermione wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.<p>

"Hey Hermione, don't worry about it. Bad press is nothing new to me. How are you coping?" he asked, returning the hug, tightening the hug when he realised that Hermione was just clinging onto him. "It's that bad huh?" he asked rhetorically, kissing the top of her head. She finally let him go, a watery smile on her face.

"When did you become so mature and pulled together?" she sniffed, wiping her eyes, her smile growing as she teased.

"Hey I've always been pulled together!" he grinned as Hermione looked at him sceptically. "Fine, not always, but I am now. Plus I'm going to be a dad so I need to work on my maturity," he beamed.

"Oh god I'm such a bad friend, I forgot, congratulations!"

"You've already congratulated me by owl, but thank you."

"Yes well, this is the first time I've ever congratulated you in person. Look at you, I know they say pregnant women have a glow about them, but I'm sure it even affects their partners, look at you, you're looking really good!" Hermione looked him up and down slowly, her own grin growing in response to Harry's, enjoying the vibrancy that appeared to be exuding from him. It was also clear that Ginny did his shopping for him; his black hair still had its usual tousled look, but was now fashionably cut, his green eyes glinting happily behind a pair of designer frames, his clothes looked comfortable, but well cut and fitting, a far cry from the oversized, crumpled clothes from his youth.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'll start to believe those rumours about us," he teased, taking a seat. Hermione playfully hit his arm, rolling her eyes at him. "But seriously Hermione, I'm sorry I've not visited you sooner, but I've barely been in the country, and any time I have been off I've been with Ginny-"

"Harry you don't need to apologise for spending time with your pregnant wife! I've no idea why you're sorry Harry, it's my fault you've been pulled into this. I'm the one who's dragged you into this, you and Ginny. How is she doing?"

"I've had more rubbish written about me than I care to remember so I should have least have visited earlier to let you know that whilst it's horrible at the time, you should just try and do your best to not let it get to you."

"You already gave me that advice via owl, telling me in person doesn't change anything-"

"But sometimes all you really need to help get through it all is a hug, and I wasn't there for that, so let me keep my apology. Ginny, she's…well…you know what she's like. Obviously she doesn't believe the papers, so she's just angry and frustrated on my behalf and just worried generally. She mentioned that she came to see you a while ago."

Hermione nodded in confirmation.

"She told you her worries then. The logical part of me thinks that the newspaper was just guessing about the pregnancy, but the idea that it wasn't just a lucky guess is still niggling in the back of my mind for some reason."

"You really think that someone in the family leaked it to the press?"

"No, but there's something not quite right about it, it's just a feeling I have. Maybe I've been an auror for too long, maybe I'll end up like old Mad Eye, being suspicious about everything! But do you know when you have a feeling that you just can't shake?"

Hermione thought about earlier that morning when she had woke up disorientated, wrapped up in an unfamiliar blanket, curled up on Fleur's armchair, the weak morning light streaming through the windows. And her eyes had fallen on Fleur who had also fallen asleep on the opposite sofa, her blonde hair falling untidily around her. And there was that feeling that she couldn't shake. Trying to rid the memory of that feeling, she nodded at Harry, encouraging him to carry on.

"I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking it. It's going to be terrifying when my kid turns into a teenager, can you imagine how much overthinking I'm going to be doing then! I just think of the things that we got up to whilst at Hogwart's and I shudder at the thought of what my kid could get up to!"

"They do say the moment you become a parent you'll never ever stop worrying about them, so if I were you, I'd enjoy the non worry state for as long as you have the chance. But there's a reason you're a great auror Harry, so there may be more to your gut feeling. But my own gut feeling says that none of Ginny's family would ever hurt you guys."

"I'm in agreement with you there which is why this is so hard for me. Have you looked into the journalist who's writing all this rubbish? Maybe that would give us a clue as to whether it's just my imagination taking over."

"It's anonymous."

"Anonymous? You mean the journalist is anonymous? Are they even allowed to be anonymous?"

Hermione shrugged in response, not knowing the answer.

"Hermione, why do I get the feeling that you don't actually care about this?"

"Probably because I don't. Well, I do, but there's no evidence for any of this crap that they're writing about, so I just figured things would blow over eventually and we'd get on with our lives."

"What's wrong Hermione, the old you would have been all over this and chances are that the journalist would be packing their things for slander already."

"I know. But it just doesn't seem worth it. I just don't care about it enough. I mean, they'd get bored of it soon enough, it'll lose steam eventually."

"Hermione, they're making a mockery of your career, accusing you of sleeping your way up the ladder, they're saying you're some kind of siren focused on seducing famous men!"

Hermione shrugged, her head bowed as she focused on her shoes, unsure how to respond.

"Is it Fleur?"

Hermione's head snapped up at her name.

"What?"

"We've already established that I know about her Hermione, you don't have to look so shocked. Ginny told me how Fleur came to see you as she left last time. I'd ask if you've told her how you feel, but seeing how lifeless you are, I'm assuming you haven't. Or you told her how you feel and she's rejected you, although I seriously doubt that."

Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"Forget about it Harry, please, there's nothing else to say on the matter of me and her. It's never going to happen. The most we'll ever be are friends."

Harry gazed at her, disappointment written all over his face.

"I never thought I'd say this about you, but Hermione Granger, you're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You're an idiot. An absolute idiot. Why?"

Hermione sighed, and looked over to the tower of crimson envelopes, nodding at them. Harry frowned, walking over and opening one.

_**Hermione,**_

_**I'm still waiting for your reply and I won't give up hope. I know that you're giving it careful consideration like you do with everything and it's probably for the best, I understand. I find myself becoming distracted by thoughts of you during the day, sometimes I forget what I'm meant to be doing. I'm no longer the selfish, self-centred boy that I was, I know that I can make you happy. **_

_**Love,**_

_**Ron**_

Harry looked up at her, his good mood dissipated, his eyes taking in the large pile of letters.

"Are they all like that?"

"Over half of them have the same thing written on them, but recently he's been writing different ones, but they're all along the same lines."

"He must send you a lot every week…"

"Daily. He sends me one letter every single day."

"Sweet Merlin," he muttered, perching against the arm of the sofa, unable to take his eyes off the pile of letters, feeling anger build inside him at Ron's selfish actions. "Still, it shouldn't change anything Hermione. You're single, you don't belong to him and you don't owe him anything. He shouldn't put you in this position. He shouldn't be doing this to poor Lavender." He felt his heart ache for the brunette as her eyes stared at the ground, her fingers white as they clutched the arms of her chair.

"Hermione, look at me," he urged gently. "Look at me." She lifted her head, and for the first time he saw how tired she looked, how she had lost the vitality that drove her and she was now just getting through each day. And he found himself wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly as she finally let herself cry. He rocked her gently back and forth, his mind racing. He was horrified at Ron's letters to Hermione, at the content and the sheer volume of letters, furious that Ron would betray Lavender in this way and using Hermione's guilt against her, knowing her character. And finally he realised that the three of them could never just be the three friends that he remembered, they'd all lost the innocence of youth, that ability to forgive and forget so easily. It turned out that after all the trials and battles that they'd had to fight through side by side, the only people able to destroy their relationship were themselves.

He loosened his hug, stepping back, his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him.

"Listen to me Hermione. You're in love with her, and from what I saw at the pub, she loves you too. We're not kids anymore, this isn't about who treats us well, who else has feelings for us. It is about the two people who love each other. You're a really good person Hermione, you're in this mess because you're a good person. You care about other people, what they think, how they'll feel, but you can't let that stop you being with someone you love. I think what Ron is doing is wrong-"

"He isn't the only person who did something wrong, I slept with Fleur when she was married, when I was sort of involved with Ron, knowing she was married to his brother-"

"And I'm not saying that that was right either. But it's already happened. And it happened because you're both in love with each other, it wasn't just some sordid affair. I know that you're still feeling guilty about breaking up with Ron just after Fred died, but making yourself miserable isn't going to change a thing. You have to move on with your life Hermione, stop living in the past. We survived that bloody battle, we lost enough back then, don't let it take anyone else from you now."

"This isn't about the past Harry! I know it's about now, it's about that letter you just read, it's about those letters that come every bloody single day!"

"For fuck's sake Hermione, just burn them! Don't read them, just chuck them in the fire where they belong!" he snapped.

Hermione's eyes widened at Harry's outburst, she hadn't seen him lose his temper since they were teenagers.

"I care about you Hermione, you're family to me and I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy. If there's anything that I learnt from Voldemort, it's the fact that we all need love. And you have that if you'll just sodding accept it. We all deserve a love which give us butterflies…"

_The first time their eyes met was enough to change everything. Across the busy Great Hall, it was suddenly as if all the other students weren't there, as if all the talking, laughing and clattering of cutlery no longer existed. Hermione had no idea who the student from Beaubaxtons was, but never had anyone elicited such a visceral reaction from her and even when she quickly averted her eyes, the tingling in her stomach remained._

"…which gives us a sense of security…"

_And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. She was vaguely aware of people rushing about around her talking in harsh whispers, but she didn't care as long as the person holding her carried on holding her. She winced as she felt them pull up her sleeve and heard a sharp intake of breath. She opened her eyes and she saw fury on Fleur's face. She reached up and touched Fleur's face and when the blonde turned to face her, she saw the fury turn to anguish._

"_It's ok, it doesn't hurt quite so much anymore," she croaked, closing her eyes as she felt the room spinning around her._

"_I'll take care of you, I promise I'll take care of you 'ermione," she heard the part Veela whisper just before she gave in to the darkness, finally feeling safe._

"…that takes our breath away…"

_Fleur moaned into Hermione's open mouth who replied with a moan of her own as, her body arching into Fleur's. She gasped as she felt Fleur push even deeper into her and she responded in kind, hearing Fleur's gutteral moans increase in volume. Their kisses grew sloppy as their love making intensified._

"_Don't stop Fleur, please don't stop," she whimpered, her nails leaving a trail of welts as she writhed against Fleur._

"_Look at me, look at me," Fleur gasped desperately. Brown eyes fluttered open and all she could see were the darkened azure eyes, half lidded as Fleur struggled to keep her own eyes open. _

"_I love…I love seeing you," the blonde's breath shuddered, eyes unwavering. And Hermione finally felt any doubt or guilt momentarily stripped away, this could never be wrong._

"…someone you would give up everything to protect…"

"_Just tell me darlin', one name and I will stop," she whispered, her tone sickeningly intimate as Hermione shrieked, every nerve fibre in her arm on fire. The pain stopped as quick as it started and she lay there panting, tears falling onto the dirty stone floor beneath her. She tried to recoil as she felt a hot tongue run up the shell of her ear, the binding spell holding her in place._

"_Shame you're a mudblood darlin', someone with your skill would be useful," Bellatrix stated in a sing song manner, her hand running up Hermione's body, ending at her neck, squeezing gently, almost absent mindedly._

"_Some muggle murderers quite like strangling their victims to death, I suppose they enjoy their victims dying under their hands, literally," she stated, fingers tightening around Hermione's neck, as Hermione tried to struggle, black spots forming in her vision. "But where's the fun in that, why speed up a process that's more enjoyable the longer you prolong it?" She suddenly released her grip, grabbing hold of Hermione's hair instead, yanking her head back enjoying the sight of the muggle born gulping in air._

_She straddled Hermione waist, intentionally knocking her injured arm, making the young brunette cry out._

"_Just tell me who you love darlin', just say their name once for me. They'd like to save you wouldn't they, they would like to come here and stop the pain, they won't mind you tellin' me their name," she told her almost conversationally as she slowly carved out another letter into Hermione's arm, the young girl begging her to stop._

"_I'll stop once you say their name, just once, no one else will know, just you and me," she whispered theatrically, enjoying the look of fear in the brown eyes. Suddenly she felt hot saliva hit her face and saw a look of defiance in the girl. She slapped the girl's face hard in anger before her mood again made a lightening change, wiping the spit almost thoughtfully from her face._

"_I was hoping you'd say that. Gives me and you some more fun times together," she smiled slowly, her eyes glinting wildly. And she savoured the way Hermione screamed again._

"…someone who makes you happy."

_They both giggled as chocolate dripped onto the floor as Hermione tried to feed her the chocolate covered strawberry, a surprisingly messy task._

"_You have some chocolate on your lip," Hemione grinned._

"_Where?" _

"_Your left hand side."_

"_Can you 'elp me, I cannot see," the blonde smirked playfully. Hermione laughed, leaning over lazily whilst propped on one arm, and used the tip of her tongue to lick off the smudge of chocolate. As she made to pull away, Fleur's arm snaked around her head, gently pulling her in for a sweet kiss. Hermione eventually pulled away, smiling at the look of contentment on the Frenchwoman's face, the blue eyes half lidded. She moved closer, wrapping her arms around the blonde as she lay her head on Hermione's chest._

"_I can 'ear your 'eartbeat, lub dub, lub dub," she said drowsily, tapping out the rhythm on Hermione's chest. "Will you sleep with me?"_

"_Always." _

_The blonde wrapped her arms around the younger woman's waist, nestling her face in the crook of Hermione's neck, both women slowly drifting into sleep._

"Maybe we all deserve it, but it doesn't mean that we all get it Harry," she shook her head as if it could dispel all the memories. Three days, that was it. Yet it was as if she could remember nothing else.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again silently seeing the set expression on her face.

"Well if they write anything else, I really think you should look into it Hermione. You don't want it to affect your teaching position. Has Professor McGonagall said anything to you?"

"I spoke to her after the first article came out, I have the support of the teaching staff as far as I'm aware."

"Just be careful Hermione."

The clock chimed and both of them turned to see the time, silently sitting whilst it chimed.

"I better go, I've got a dinner date with Ginny. And I'll be able to leave without any of the students seeing me as they'll all be gone for dinner. It really does feel like I'm having an affair with you," he smirked, standing up, reluctant to leave Hermione in her current mood. Hermione smiled slightly as she saw him hesitate, grateful to know he cared.

"It's ok Harry, I'm fine. Go have a good night with your wife, you guys need to enjoy time to yourselves before the baby arrives, you certainly won't have so much opportunity once it's here!"

"Hermione-"

"Really, I'm fine. Go have fun, you deserve it," she smiled gently, meaning everything she said.

"You deserve it too Hermione. Think about it, please." He leant over her, kissing her forehead briefly before leaving, seeing how she closed her eyes and leant her head back the unshed tears falling, his heart aching for her.

She heard her door click close and she fought away the tears, she didn't want to cry anymore. She stood up and paced around her living area restlessly, picking up things and then placing them back down, not knowing what she wanted to do. Finally she picked up a bag containing toiletries and a towel, deciding a bath in the prefects bathroom with all those bubbles would soothe her. The hallways were quiet, everyone else was at dinner and all she could hear was the clicking of her heels gently along the stone.

And then she could smell that perfume. Before she could even process the thought Fleur came around the corner, a large stack of books in her arms which tumbled to the ground as she collided into the younger woman.

"Merde," she muttered as she bent over to pick up her books.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, bending over to help retrieve the books. Fleur's head jerked up at the voice, her cheeks suddenly flushing.

"Non, it was my fault, I wasn't paying attention-"

"I'm sorry for leaving this morning without saying goodbye, I didn't want to wake you and I remembered I had papers to mark," rushed out of Hermione's mouth before she even knew what she was saying.

"C'est bonne," she replied without a smile, knowing Hermione was lying about the marking.

"Let me help you with these books-"

"Non, it's ok, I 'ave them-"

"Let me please, it's the least I can do," Hermione wished she could stop talking, not knowing where all the words were coming from.

"Errr…merci. I was just going to take them back to my rooms."

Hermione nodded in silent acknowledgement and they both silently walked down the corridor, the tension palpable.


	18. Chapter 18

I'm really glad you guys are enjoying reading this story, it's super gratifying knowing people care about this couple as much as I do.

A quick response to Piceaabies' comment - I honestly don't know when Hermione fell in love with Fleur, or to be more precise, when Hermione realised she was in love with Fleur. I always imagine Hermione to be rather good at supressing her emotions and self denial, so as to was Hermione in love with Fleur when the Bellatrix thing happened, or whether Fleur was just the one she felt most strongly for, who knows. I'd like to believe the former, but then again I'm a hopeless romantic!

Anyway, thanks to all you commenters and all you silent readers, it's all appreciated!

Cheers!

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><p>"So you are not 'ungry?" Fleur asked, needing to break the painful silence.<p>

"Pardon? Oh, you mean as it's dinner time. No, not particularly hungry, plus I don't really fancy facing the rest of the school just yet. Why aren't you at dinner?"

"Not really 'ungry either, I was just going to 'ave some toast later."

"That'll be nice," replied Hermione politely, her mind running round in circles. _Why the hell am I here, I didn't need to help her carry those books, she could have just spelled them to follow her, god I don't know what to do, I can't be here so close to her-_

"Just put the books on the table, please. Thank you."

Hermione gently put the books down, the table reminding her of the previous night's meal. She stood up awkwardly, placing her bathing bag next to the books, taking a deep breath before looking up at the blonde.

"I never got to thank you for last night. It'd been a while since I'd…I just really appreciate what you did for me, Fleur."

Fleur couldn't place her finger on what it was, but there was something different about Hermione tonight, she almost seemed preoccupied. Whatever it was, it was making her nervous.

"You bought me a bottle of wine to thank me, but like I said yesterday, it's no big deal," she shrugged, sitting down.

"Well…it meant a lot to me." Hermione could hear Harry's words constantly replaying on her mind. But never had she felt so underserving of love as she did now, knowing that the dark circles beneath those blue eyes were due to her.

"Please take a seat, if you're not going to eat, maybe un café au lait?" she asked, not wanting the Englishwoman to leave just yet, even if being near her was just as frustrating and painful.

Hermione hesitated, knowing the longer she spent in her presence, the more difficult it would be to stop herself reaching out and touching the blonde. But to be with her, even in the strictest platonic sense…she couldn't refuse that. She nodded, sitting down at the head of the table next to the blonde.

Fleur quietly spelled a French coffee press into work, before silently levitating a pair of fine china mugs and saucers to the wooden table. A quick tap with her wand steamed the milk before she poured both the coffee and milk simultaneously into the mugs. She passed a mug of coffee to Hermione, the mug rattling in its saucer.

"Muggles have ingenious machines that make fantastic cups of coffee," Fleur commented, both hands cradling her mug, eyes focused on the pale liquid.

"Coffee machines are pretty good, my dad doesn't wake up properly until he's had his fix of espresso in the morning. When you were travelling, did you spend much time in the muggle world?" she asked quietly, her gaze focused on the blonde's lips as she took a silent sip of coffee before averting her eyes quickly when she became aware of what she was doing.

"Most of my time was in the muggle world. Their world is so different, but the people are no different from us. I must admit, I 'adn't spent so much time in the muggle world before the last five years and so I didn't really know what to expect, but I thought that they would be _more_ different. Thinking back about it now, I realise now that it was silly thinking such things considering so many of us have muggle blood," she said, giving Hermione a small smile.

"People are just people at the end of the day. Did you like the muggle world?"

"Oui, I did. It was…it was a break. Life is slower in a lot of ways, mainly as they spend so long doing things that take us an instant to do with magic. And they're so unaware of things that could hurt them, like dementors, that it was almost if you spent enough time in the muggle world, you could almost forget about them too. It was peaceful in a lot of ways. But you'll know these things already being muggle born."

Hermione nodded, understanding her sentiments.

"After the war I had to get away from the magic world, although I think a large part of that was that I needed to go somewhere where people didn't know who I was. Having people constantly...I…it doesn't matter, just being there was liberating, an opportunity to escape and hide for a while."

Fleur could see Hermione becoming lost in her thoughts, her face serious, and she wondered what the brunette was remembering.

_Was I part of the reason you needed to run away and hide?_

Fleur turned her head afraid of her face giving her away, her gaze falling on the scarf that hung on the coat stand.

"I 'ave your scarf. You left it at the Three Broomsticks a couple of weeks ago. I meant to give it back to you sooner, but…things got in the way." Fleur instantly regretted mentioning the scarf, seeing the darkening of Hermione's expression, remembering what had happened, what she had said.

_**Fleur could see Hermione standing behind him, and she caught and held the brunette's gaze.**_

"_**I didn't love 'im anymore. I was in love with someone else."**_

Fleur cleared her throat, breaking Hermione from her reverie.

"'ow is Ronald?" she asked delicately, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"He's fine. He's…distracted with things these days." _How do I stop him being distracted by me, I don't want him. There's only one person I want and you're sat here next to me, and still I can't touch you._

"I'm sorry for what I said that day." It was as if they couldn't stop the lies spilling from their lips, lies which fooled no one.

_Do you mean that you didn't love me?_

"It's in the past Fleur, we're past that now." _Have we really moved on? _"I hope you didn't take too much notice of what he said that day, I think it was just a shock for him seeing you here." Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she felt compelled to defend him, remembering how much she had wanted to protect Fleur when he had said derogatory things about her.

"I was surprised to see him too. But his hatred of me is understandable. Not only did I divorce his brother, I broke –"

"He doesn't know."

"Oh."

"Does Bill know?"

"He knew I no longer loved 'im. And that was enough for us to divorce. But if you meant did he know the specific reason of why I ended our marriage, then non," she replied bitterly, recalling the image of a man she thought she had loved, crumbling before her, wanting to know who she had fallen in love with, wanting to know when she fallen out of love with him, wanting to know if she had ever really loved him.

"So I was the reason you…" she asked, knowing the answer the moment the question left her lips.

"I couldn't love Bill the way he wanted me to, the way he should be loved."

"I'm sorry."

All those lies, balancing precariously upon one another.

Enough.

Fleur angrily pushed her cup of coffee away, liquid slopping over the sides, into the saucer, onto the table.

"Non, you are not really sorry. Look me in the eyes and tell me you did not want my divorce to 'appen," she shouted, accent becoming stronger with each word.

Hermione pushed her chair back, the urge to flee overwhelming, but a cool hand around her wrist kept her in place. The fingers barely rested on her skin, no force was required to pull her arm away, but she doubted she would have been able to break that contact if her life depended on it.

"Can you tell me that you did not want my marriage to end?" she repeated, voice quieter, feeling the Hermione's pulse flutter rapidly in her wrist.

Hermione looked into Fleur's angry eyes, frightened of voicing the truth.

"I'm sorry you had to go through the divorce."

"Don't avoid the question 'ermione, just answer it!"

"I can't-"

"Non! Enough is enough 'ermione, you cannot avoid the question forever-"

"I can't tell you that I didn't want your marriage to end ok?" Hermione shouted, yanking her arm from Fleur's grasp. "I wanted your marriage to end! I didn't want him touching you, I didn't want him loving you, I didn't want him calling you his wife! Is that enough? Do you want to hear more? Would you like to hear how it felt like I was being stabbed in the heart when you kissed him when he came home? You kissed the bloody man in front of me!" Suddenly all the hurts that Hermione thought she had put to rest, resurfaced. "You told me you were mine, but you lied! The moment he came back and you were his again!" She didn't cared that angry tears spilled from her eyes, all she wanted was Fleur to feel all the pain that she felt.

"You didn't give me time to tell 'im!"

"We didn't have any bloody time! We were at war! That could have been the last bloody time you saw me alive, but you stayed with him!"

"And you stayed with that imbécile Ronald! You never gave me a chance to find you! You left within an hour! I was going to tell 'im, but you didn't give me time! You think one hour just as he came back was enough time to tell my new 'usband that I wanted a divorce? I wanted to find you, I wanted to owl you, but what if I gave away your position? Everyday I'd read the newspaper and be afraid to find your name in them! I did not know if you were alive or dead, whether you were captured or being tortured again! You didn't let me know! Do you think that you were the only one who was 'urting? Do you think that I slept soundly at night wondering where the 'ell you were? I was the one who nursed you after the last Bellatrix tortured you, I bathed those wounds, I 'elped 'eal them, I kissed those scars, I traced them with my fingers and all I could think was would you 'ave more scars the next time I saw you, would I see you again…" she trailed off hoarsely, eyes blazing, shining with unfallen tears.

"If you really wanted to you could have found a way of letting me know you cared! I'm sure when you had a difficult night sleeping Bill was right there in bed with you to comfort you and help you sleep soundly!"

The hateful words escaped her mouth without thought, just wanting the woman to feel as bad as she felt, as much as she had hurt. Fleur raised her hand and Hermione instantly stepped back thinking the part Veela was going to slap her, but instead she found her hand pressed against Fleur's chest, feeling the rapidly rhythm of the woman's heartbeat, cool fingers wrapped tightly against her wrist, hard enough to bruise. A harsh whisper reached her ears.

"Do you feel that? If you weren't 'ere I wouldn't care if that was there or not. Without you I'm just a shadow of myself. Money, beauty, friends, family, intelligence, success, none of that means anything without you."

"Don't," Hermione whispered hoarsely, losing sense of everything but Fleur. She felt the space between them close as Fleur brought her lips to Hermione's ear, her breath warm on her skin.

"You don't want to 'ear that I love you or you don't want to 'ear 'ow I 'aven't stopped thinking about you since before we ever kissed? You don't want to 'ear 'ow the bed is empty without you, 'ow I 'ate waking up knowing you won't be there? You don't want to 'ear that I accepted this job just because you were in the same country, 'ow I told myself that I would never seek you out? You don't want to 'ear how my body yearns for yours, 'ow the touch of others don't compare, 'ow when others have touched me I imagined it was you, 'ow when I touch myself I think about you?"

And suddenly the few inches between them became too many for Hermione, but still she pulled away one more time, pulling away so that she could look Fleur in the eyes. Brown eyes searched those stormy blue eyes, seeing that imperfection, that fleck of grey which made them all the more beautiful, and she realised that there was only one thing she could say.

"I love you."

And nothing else mattered.

She pulled Fleur against her hard, lips crashing together, moaning as Fleur immediately demanded more, moaning loudly as their tongues caressed. She whimpered as Fleur roughly nipped her way down the sensitive skin of her throat, knowing that the Frenchwoman didn't care about the bruises that she knew would form, wanting the world to know she was taken. She placed her hand against Fleur's face, suddenly needing to feel her lips against her own. The kiss was reciprocated with vigour, and all she knew was the smell of Fleur's skin, her perfume, the softness of her lips, the taste of her lips. But it wasn't enough.

She found herself pulling off Fleur's top, eyes momentarily appreciating the fullness of her breasts, the flat, toned planes of her stomach before needing to taste her skin by running her tongue down her neck, her hands running down the toned arms, feeling the muscles quivering under her touch. She felt the blonde's hands deftly unhook the clasp at the back of her dress and tug down the zipper. Hermione shrugged off the straps and she barely felt the cool air hit her skin as her dressed pooled around her ankles, before she felt Fleur's hands run over her bra covered breasts, both desperate for more contact. She unzipped Fleur's skirt, roughly tugging the skirt down.

Both were left in their underwear as they leaned into each other, skin against skin. And the need to possess her overwhelmed her. She pushed Fleur roughly towards the desk watching books cascade onto the ground. She pressed her body against Fleur's back before kissing her way down her spine. With no warning she reached round and thrust her hands into Fleur's pants, groaning loudly at the wetness that greeted her, savouring the sound of the blonde's intake of breath, her hip thrusting into her hand.

"Hermione…" the blonde whispered gutturally, turning her head to kiss Hermione. And Hermione realised she was doing it all wrong.

She pulled away her hand, hearing Fleur whining slightly at the abrupt loss of contact, wrapping her arms around the blonde's waist, pulling her body flush against her own.

"Fleur," she whispered, "I don't want to do this-"

She wasn't able to finish before the blonde whipped around, hurt and confusion written all over her face.

"What-" her face beginning to contort in anger.

"Let me finish, will me finish what I have to say first Fleur?" she asked quietly, eyes intent on Fleur's. Fleur paused for a moment before closing her mouth, nodding her assent.

"I don't want to do this like this. Fleur, I want to do this properly."

"You mean…"Fleur barely dared to hope, she wasn't sure she would be able take the disappointment.

"I…I want to do this properly. We've never done it properly, I want…I mean, if you would like…to date you-"

"Oui. I would like to, anything," the Frenchwoman blurted out, heart pounding, wondering if this was another of her dreams, would she wake up filled up regret yet again. She broke their gaze, looking past her, the sight of the scarf jolting her mind.

"Aren't you…I mean are you…I saw you and Ronald together and I need to know that you're not back with Ronald, I can't do this-"

"I'm not back with Ron, I promise you. I mean, he wants to be, but I'm not with him, I've told him I don't want to be with him. The only person I want to be with is you Fleur. Unless, are you involved with someone else…?"she trailed off, panicking.

"Non, no one else but you." Fleur hesitated, wanting to ask a question, but afraid of the answer. "'ermione, I need to know, do you mean this? I really don't think I could wake up tomorrow only to 'ave you change your mind. I'm just…I'm just not that strong," her voice trailed off to a whisper, reluctant to meet those brown eyes.

"I won't change my mind Fleur. I'm not saying I won't be scared, but I'm tired of lying to myself…I was doing a terrible job of lying to myself anyhow."

And for now, that was enough for both of them.

She pulled Hermione to her, wrapping her arms around the brunette, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the beating of her heart…and the heat that flared between them as their skin touched. She pulled away, sweeping her eyes over the brunette's semi clad body.

"We should probably get dressed then, seeing that we're going to do this properly," she said reluctantly, "Unless of course, you want to start doing this properly tomorrow?" she smirked, raising an eyebrow. She grinned seeing the conflicted thoughts that ran across Hermione's features, but tossed the dress to Hermione, already knowing what the answer would be.

Fleur perched on the edge of the sofa as she smoothed out her skirt and pushed her hair from her face as she watched Hermione finish dressing. She really wanted to be happy, but she was afraid, what if Hermione changed her mind, she wasn't sure-

A soft palm caressing her cheek ceased her thoughts and she turned her face upwards, looking into Hermione's serious face.

"I promise you I won't run away this time Fleur."


	19. Chapter 19

Here are a few chapters for those who are persisting with this story. As always, thanks to every who follows this story, to those who leave comments and to those silent readers. Enjoy!

Cheers!

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><p>The clatter of Fleur's heels echoed off the stones as she hurried to the dungeon. She had woken up late, but despite only a few hours sleep, she felt energised. And happy; it'd been such a long time since she had felt this happy. The two of them had stayed up until the early hours of the morning just talking, becoming accustomed to each other's company again, neither being able to stop smiling or laughing. She remembered the reluctance in Hermione's eyes when they both decided it was time to call it a night, Hermione shyly taking one of her hands in her own, both savouring the touch, letting their hands linger; she didn't have to close her eyes to remember the sensation of Hermione slowly running the pads of her fingers over the top of her hand before squeezing it gently. And to finish off the night, a goodnight kiss which had made her blush, making her feel as young as the students she taught; it had been chaste, one kiss on each cheek, she was French after all, but the brush of Hermione's lips against her skin, the warmth of Hermione's cheeks against her own and the smoothness beneath her own lips had sent anticipatory tingles coursing through her body. She had been gratified to see a splash of colour high on the brunette's cheeks when they separated. Just thinking about it made her grin.<p>

She breezed into the classroom beaming at her final year students who were lounged around gossiping.

"Bonjour! My apologies for being late. Could everyone please take their seats, and we'll get started." Her wide smile was not missed by her students, many of whom unconsciously found themselves smiling back equally widely.

"Professor, you obviously got out on the right side of bed today! Good weekend?" asked a male student at the back of the class.

Fleur looked up from the pile of papers she was holding, surprised to see her students looking genuinely interested in her weekend, waiting expectantly for her answer.

"I did 'ave a good weekend thank you, didn't 'ave to face you lot which is always a plus," she deadpanned, hearing a few chuckles in response.

"You do look extra smiley though Professor, must have done something special…or someone…" chirped a female voice, garnering louder laughs from her classmates.

"Enough, settle down. Whilst you all seem so interested in my personal life, I'm more interested to see 'ow you do in this morning's surprise practical test," she smirked, ignoring the groans and complaints that it elicited.

As she watched the students silently collect their ingredients, she mentally reminded herself that she needed to have a stronger grasp of her emotions when around her students; her thrall intensified as her own emotions intensified, and considering her subconscious control loosened considerably when she was preoccupied with other things, it was a poor combination, one that could lead to dangerous situations. It had happened before. Just a quick scan of the room and she could see more than a few of students glancing at her with longing, infatuated gazes. She reprimanded herself silently, but she had few concerns over her students' crushes, knowing the labile nature of teenage hormones, it had always been adults who had been the most difficult to deal with. She shook off dark memories, reminding herself to be more careful in the future.

Once satisfied with the progress of her students, she took a seat on her desk, reaching into her bag for the pile of parchment that needing marking when she noticed a small white envelope on her desk, her name written on it in Hermione's neat hand. A familiar knot of anxiety formed in her stomach, she desperately didn't want to be disappointed, not after all the conversation and laughter they had shared. She took a deep breath, looking up to make sure all her pupils were occupied with the task at hand. Unfolding the piece of parchment inside, that knot transformed into butterflies as she felt excitement flood her body.

_**Fleur,**_

_**I am so glad that we had last night and I really hope that we have many more. Would you like to go out on a date with me this Thursday evening?**_

_**Yours,**_

_**H**_

_**P.S. I did want to ask you in person, but I just couldn't wait that long.**_

Fleur wanted nothing more than to just go and find Hermione to give her an answer, but knew that it would have to wait. There was always the option of sending a student to her with the reply, but quite frankly, she wanted to see the expression on Hermione's face_._

She had always been so afraid to dream about this and yet somehow it all appeared to be happening. It was as though she had just woken up from a waking dream, she no longer wanted to walk through her life as she had been doing, she wanted to live it, and she remembered how much she had missed that. She wasn't prepared to think about the future just yet, not after last time; she didn't think she would be able to cope feeling as though her soul had been torn apart again, briefly wondering if that was how Voldemort felt as he voluntarily fragmented his own soul.

_She sat in the dark, knees tucked up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself, in the same chair that she found Hermione in that night, eyes looking out over the moonlit coastline, but seeing nothing. Five days. It had been five days since she had left and there had been no word. No letter, no message, no sign, nothing to indicate that she was safe, even alive. Five days of tossing and turning, only managing a few hours of sleep a night with dreams interrupted by nightmares, pacing around the cottage restlessly, everything reminding her of Hermione. She was already losing weight, all the foods she had once loved no longer had appeal. _

_And he kept looking at her. He would look at her with those light blue eyes, silently beseeching her to talk to him, but she couldn't. After that kiss that Hermione had seen, she hadn't let him touch her, claiming to be too busy, too tired, too anxious before eventually not even bothering with a reason. She could see the hurt and puzzlement in his eyes, the way his scarred jaw twitched as he wanted to ask her why, but never quite being brave enough. Just over a week ago they had been happy, at least he had, and she had believed that perhaps one day she would learn to love him as much as he loved her. They had been planning their future, enjoying their companionship, settling into a routine as a newly married couple. Their late nights extended into early mornings as they tried to claim satisfaction from each other's bodies. But after, she always felt regret. That physical craving was satisfied, but that was it, nothing more. It was as though it was purely a means to an end, and she struggled to reconcile the thought of her husband and the act of love making. Unless it was one of those rare times she let herself think about Hermione, and suddenly her body came alive. She would keep her eyes firmly closed, focusing only on herself and her needs as she imagined it was Hermione that was touching her, imagining Hermione's voice and for those few seconds as she let the waves wash over her she would be content. But as she quickly regained her senses, that feeling of happiness would plummet into nothingness and she couldn't bear to tell her husband that she reciprocated his feelings of love, couldn't stay in bed listening to him sleep. And on those nights, she would inevitably end up falling asleep in this chair exhausted by her guilt, hating herself for knowing that she would never love him as much as she should, as much as she felt for someone she would never have._

_Since he had returned from London, she hadn't been back in their bed, choosing instead to fall asleep in one of the spare bedrooms, on the bed that still smelled of Hermione, where she had finally understood what making love was. And when she couldn't sleep and was too tired to try and focus on more spells for the war that she knew was fast approaching, she would just sit in this chair until sheer exhaustion took over. _

"_Fleur?"_

_She scrunched her eyes up in frustration, not having the energy to face his silent questions. She turned her head, seeing him hovering in the doorway, and a small sigh escaped her lips as she knew what was about to happen, she could see the way he had mentally built himself up for an argument, his normally relaxed stance now unnaturally aggressive. _

_He walked in and sat on the edge of the bed facing her, and suddenly she felt as though he was intruding, remembering the way Hermione had given herself completely to her in that bed. _

"_What's going on with you Fleur? You can talk to me you know, about anything, I'm here to listen," his voice cajoling. _

"_Nothing's going on Bill, I'm just tired."_

"_Then come back to our room, come back to our bed and we'll go to bed," he stated, not even trying to keep the pleading tone from his voice._

"_I can't, I'll just toss and turn. I'm better off in here, I'll fall asleep eventually," she stated, her voice tired, desperately trying not to think of how easily she fell asleep in Hermione's arms. _

_She visibly flinched when he touched her arm with his hand and he recoiled, devastation written across his face._

"_What happened Fleur? Everything was fine before I left, what happened when we went to London? I can't fix something I don't know about, please just talk to me."_

_She couldn't tell him that she felt for someone else what she was meant to feel for him, how she knew that from the first moment her own lips touched Hermione's, that no one else would ever suffice. But she didn't want to make up any more excuses._

"_I need a break Bill, I'm sorry. I need to go 'ome, I need to spend time with my family."_

"_Is that why you can't sleep? You're worrying about your family?" They both knew that he was clutching onto anything to try to save their marriage from something he didn't understand, willing to accept any lie she told. And she felt her emotionless façade begin to crack, the man in front of her had never deserved to be the victim of her denial, of her fear._

"_Non. I need to spend time away from us Bill. I don't …..I don't know if we should be together anymore."_

"_Why are you saying that? What the hell has happened?"_

"_You deserve someone who loves you as much you love them, and I'm not sure I can-"_

"_You love me enough, I'm happy with you, I don't need anyone else, I don't want anyone else Fleur!" he shouted as he felt tears sting his eyes._

"_I'm sorry."_

_He shook his head at her in disbelief, unable to process everything she had said. _

"_I will return to France tomorrow, if you need to find me, I will be with my family," she said with a finality that she didn't feel._

_He stared at her, struggling to understand what had happened. In a space of a week, the woman he had been proud to call his wife and friend, was now almost a stranger to him._

"_I don't know if you're panicking about being married, or you're worried about your family or perhaps it's the brewing war that's making your nervous, but you should know I'm here to listen to you, and I'll protect you with my life, Fleur. Take your time, it may do you some good to spend time with your family as I'll be busy in the upcoming weeks with things from The Order, but remember that I love you. I swore an oath that I would love you and protect you for better or for worse and I hope that this is just a period of worse."_

_With that, he picked up the tattered remains of his dignity, calmly stood up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. _

_And for the first time in months, she cried. Streaming tears soon gave way to gut wrenching sobs that she tried to muffle with her hand. She thought of the three of them, all of them hurting because of her. She thought of the man she should never had selfishly married, the good man with a better heart who was prepared to live a lie for her, who was prepared to spend the rest of his life knowing that she had settled for him just so that she was happy. She thought of the young Englishwoman who took her breath away, the woman who she understood and who understood her completely, a woman who had trusted her completely, and the way that fear and anguish had shadowed her brown eyes when she heard Bill's voice. She had damaged three lives including her own; it was ok to make mistakes when you were the only casualty, but when you irrevocably damaged others, she wasn't sure that she would ever be able to fully forgive herself._

No, she wasn't prepared to allow herself to think about the future yet, but she already knew that the carefully constructed wall she had placed around herself had already started to crumble the moment she had caught sight of those brown eyes again. She took another look at the letter in front of her, running her finger across the words and thought that maybe she could finally begin to make amends for her past actions.


	20. Chapter 20

"Where are we 'ermione?"

She looked around, the wind blowing gently, but persistently over them. In the near distance she could see large wind turbines turning lazily in the breeze. Hermione just entangled their fingers together, tugging her up the sand dune. Fleur glanced at their fingers mixed together, heart skipping a beat, grinning widely before allowing herself to be tugged up. She laughed as her feet sank repeatedly in the sand as she made her way up, breathing heavily when she finally reached the top. She looked out, seeing a dull sandy beach, a few people trying to catch the last of the day's light walking along with their dogs and lots of people staring out into the blue-grey sea.

"I 'ave no idea where we are," she remarked, hoping something would give her a clue as to where they were.

"Crosby beach," replied Hermione smiling, as she planted a light kiss on Fleur's cheek. Fleur smiled widely, enjoying the display of affection.

"I 'ave no idea where Crosby beach is, I don't think I 'ave ever 'eard of it."

"It's somewhere I like to come when I need to think, those fellows make good silent companions," she nodded towards the figures staring out into the sea. Fleur frowned, not understanding, squinting in order to see the figures better. And then she noticed that all the people were staring silently at the water, not moving even slightly, and the frown on her face deepened as she understood even less.

"They're statues," Hermione chuckled, enjoying the look of confusion on Fleur's face. "It's an art installation. Come on, we'll get you a close up with them," she grinned, pulling Fleur down the sand dune, both laughing as they ran down the dune, trying their best not to fall until a hidden branch rolled under Hermione's foot and she fell with a shriek, pulling Fleur down with her, both laughing as they rolled to a halt.

"Merci for taking me down with you, I needed the rest," panted Fleur drolly as she lifted her head to look at Hermione, before resting it back down on the sand, as she caught her breath.

"You're very welcome," Hermione replied dryly, as she pulled herself closer to the blonde, not thinking about what she was doing, brushing the blonde hair from Fleur's face. And at the same moment, both became aware of how close their faces were. Blue eyes never left her own as she lowered her head until she felt Fleur's breath against her lips.

"Hello," she whispered, smiling.

"Bonjour," came the soft reply, her heart tightening at what she saw in Fleur's eyes. She saw the grey flecked eyes flicker down to her lips, drawing her own eyes to Fleur's lips. The sight of Fleur unconsciously licking her lips sent Hermione's heart racing. It was as though the air around them had suddenly stilled, the sounds of the sea ceased, the seagulls were silent, all that either could hear was the sound of each other's breathing. And feel their breath on their lips.

At an almost painstakingly slow pace, Hermione slowly closed the gap between their lips, lightly pressing their lips together, every nerve ending alive, feeling the hairs on her body stand on end at the feel of those soft lips against her own. Fleur entangled her fingers in the brunette's hair, pulling the brunette's face closer, gradually deepening the kiss, both feeling the other smile into the kiss. It was a kiss that was so familiar, a kiss that both had spent endless nights remembering, dreaming about, yet it almost felt new, different. The softness of Hermione's lips, the taste of her lipstick, the smooth locks of her hair beneath her hand, Fleur couldn't help but feel overwhelmed, pulling apart when they finally conceded the need for oxygen, parting only centimetres, their foreheads pressed against one another's. Fleur's hand remained entangled in her hair, preventing her from moving away completely, and they just paused, lost in each other's gazes.

"Tu es vraiment belle," murmured Fleur.

"No, you're the beautiful one. You are so, so beautiful Fleur," whispered the younger woman as she felt herself fall in love all over again, the painful clenching of the heart, the tightening of the gut, and she felt the weight of regret on her shoulders, all those lost moments, all that lost time.

"I'm so sorry Fleur, all the time that we-"

"Stop. What 'as passed 'as passed. We have the present, and that's all I need for now, mon coeur. You…just having you here with me, knowing that I can just reach out and touch you, it is enough. You don't know how much it means to me, how much I needed it. Come, you said you would introduce me to your friends," she said as she stood up, brushing sand from her clothes. She proffered her hand to Hermione, who hesitated briefly before taking the hand.

"I do understand, that's why I regret-"

"Non. No more regrets 'ermione," she said quietly, tugging the brunette towards her for a breathtaking, lingering kiss that spoke volumes, both eventually pulling away with small smiles on their faces.

"Now Professor Granger, did you only bring me here to kiss you because if it is, we could always do it in more comfortable, and more private, surroundings," she teased, flashing a pearly grin.

"Well, I wouldn't want to say no to more kisses," Hermione flirted in return, running her finger slowly from Fleur's collarbone to the dip between her breasts, and Fleur felt her mouth run dry and her heart pounding, "but we agreed to take this slowly, to do this properly and I don't think somewhere more comfortable and private would help us do that," smirked Hermione as she placed another drawn out kiss on Fleur's lips before tugging on the dazed blonde's hand, nodding at the nearest statue.

"You said that this is an art exhibit?" asked Fleur as she peered at the life size iron man, her head tilted slightly to the side, half expecting him to make a curt remark.

"Mmm hmm. The artist's has a couple of famous pieces and this is one of them. He won't attack you, you know?" she grinned, seeing that Fleur almost wary of the statue.

"Oui…it was just I was thinking…well…stupid thoughts…"replied Fleur, an embarrassed smile on her face.

"I'd like to hear your stupid thoughts if you want to share them," Hermione said as she rested her head on the figures arm, a silly smile on her face, making Fleur laugh.

"Well when I was travelling, I went to watch a…movie…film….is there a difference?"

"They both mean the same thing, but I think the term movie has a slightly more American feel to it, but they're both used on both continents."

"Ah ok. Well, I was watching a film and there were lots of these statues in them, but they were alive and formed an army. So I was just thinking what spells we would use to stop them if all of these statues on this beach came alive and tried to attack us, would they actually be live beings or would they just be controlled by another wizard and 'ow thick their armour is and what would their purpose be…"rushed an embarrassed Fleur.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, biting her bottom lip trying not to laugh.

"So, what you're thinking about is battle tactics, whilst I try to take you out a romantic date? Very apt I suppose, after everything," said Hermione, trying hard not to let the laughter escape from her.

"Well you did insist on 'earing about what I was thinking about," muttered Fleur, a small pout on her lowered face, her cheeks flaming.

"Professor Delacour, are you pouting?" grinned the brunette, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Non," the denial pointless as her face betrayed her.

"Well I think it's very sweet of you to think of the best way to help us escape if they did suddenly did come alive and tried to attack us," Hermione gently teased, glad to see the corner of Fleur's mouth twitching as she tried not to smile. "I'll share my own tactics with you shall I, so that we'll be fully prepared? If they were robots, I'd try to find a way to short circuit them en masse, if they were controlled by another wizard or witch, well obviously stopping them would be the only way and as for if they suddenly became live beings…well…maybe I'd just try to change them back into molten iron, or perhaps we could just utilise that devastatingly enchanting personality of yours and talk our way out of danger."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Fleur stated, unable to stop her smile.

"Perhaps not, but it made you smile," countered the brunette.

"And perhaps I am simply smiling at the thought that you'll have to make it up to me in some way," the blonde smirked as she grabbed hold of Hermione's belt loop, pulling her towards her. Seeing Hermione's breathing suddenly become shallow, she smirked as leaned over to her ear, her voice low with arousal. "And I can think of a lot of…fun ways that you can make it up to me," she teased, her fingers slowly running up Hermione's flat stomach, fingers dragging the material of her top upward.

Hermione pulled away weakly, needing to create space between their bodies despite her body's protests, rolling her eyes at the smirk that adorned Fleur's face.

"Come on Professor, let's go collect some firewood, it may distract you from those thoughts I know you're having," said Hermione as she tried to pull herself together. Fleur laughed as she started walking towards a cluster of trees.

"I think that it may be you who needs distracting from those thoughts."

With the wall of the walkway against their back and a fire in front of them, they sat next to each other, their shoulders and knees bumping, not noticing the rapidly fading sunlight, too engrossed in each other.

"'ow many of those statues are there on this beach?" asked Fleur, looking around, seeing the iron men in various in varying degrees of submersion.

"Hmmm…I'm not sure, about a hundred or so I think. But it depends on what time of the day you're here at as to how many you can see. I mean, right now, quite a few have been completely submerged by the sea and lots more are their way."

"'ow did you even get to know about this place?"

A soft smile graced Hermione's face and when she spoke, her voice quietly wistful.

"My dad is a huge Beatle's fan – they're a very famous muggle band – and one summer he decided that he would make a pilgrimage to Liverpool, which is where the band originated from, and we would spend a few days there before heading the to the Peak District for a couple of weeks. Anyway, we drove up and managed to get completely and utterly lost and somehow ended up here, but like every other time we got lost, because apparently none of us can navigate a map properly, but we just enjoyed where it took us! So we spent a few hours here just enjoying the place, had some ice cream, took photos and had lunch. My dad thought that the iron men were looking out into the water, waiting for someone, something to return, protecting this land, and my mum thought they were looking out into the horizon, searching for new lands, adventure."

"And what do you think?"

"A little bit of both to be honest. I think that they're waiting, hoping for something, but also wondering if it may be better to just leave, to go somewhere completely new and start again."

Fleur reached over, taking a hand in between her own.

"What did the artist say about it?"

Hermione chuckled, the sound lightening the atmosphere slightly.

"I read something about it being about the ebb and flow of life, about the ravages of the natural elements on a person, or some other similar deep, meaningful lengthy explanation. I'm just not deep enough to understand I suppose, but I do love his work," she sighed, eyes fixed on the dark water. They were both silent for a minute, both thinking about Hermione's family. Seeing Hermione's thoughts causing her to frown, Fleur thought of a topic to try and avert her thoughts.

"Madame Maxime told me that 'agrid was planning a trip to France over Christmas, did he mention it to you?"

"No, he's never said a word about her. I didn't realise that they were still together," replied Hermione distractedly as she interlinked their fingers together, her thumb running slow circles on her skin.

"I don't know if they are together, or if they are just good friends, but she seemed excited in her letter. She wanted to know if he had gained or lost weight, I think she wants to get him some kind of clothing for his Christmas gift", she murmured, quickly losing interest in the conversation as all her attention became focused on the two inches of skin that Hermione's thumb was stroking.

Nothing could have stopped her from turning her head towards Hermione's and capturing those lips with her own; she felt those lips rhythmically move against her own, and somehow she found the younger woman's body pressed against hers, her arm tightly wrapped around her waist. She granted instant access the moment she felt Hermione's tongue running along her lips and she moaned enjoying the taste of the brunette, feeling the tongue leisurely run along her own, eliciting a moan from Hermione as she sucked on her tongue. She broke away gasping as she felt Hermione run her hand up her jean clad inner thigh, stopping the hand's travels with her own. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt Hermione nibbling and sucking on her ear lobe, the hand on her thigh squeezing and stroking. With willpower she didn't realise she possessed, she gently pushed Hermione away regretting it the instant she saw Hermione's half lidded dark eyes, swollen lips and flushed face.

"We said…properly…"Fleur shrugged, struggling to form a sentence as she watched Hermione lick her lips and push back her tousled hair, an embarrassed smile on her face.

"I know, I know, it's just so…"

"Hard. I know." Both of them continue to stare at each other as they got their breath back.

"Food!" exclaimed Hermione, making Fleur jump, her voice sounding extra loud in the dark.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I just meant I have food," she mumbled, more to keep herself distracted as she searched in her bag. She pulled out a vacuum flask, two mugs and a loaf of fresh bread; quickly looking around her to make sure no one was watching, she tapped the flask with her wand to heat up the soup before pouring out the steaming liquid into the mugs.

"Here you go, our starter of chicken and autumn vegetable soup, with a side of bread," she said, passing a mug to Fleur.

"It smells delicious, thank you," the Frenchwoman smiled, cradling the mug in both hands, enjoying the heat it provided. An enticing smell emanated from the mug and she placed it down carefully on the sand, tearing a piece of bread from the loaf. She dipped the bread into the soup and then took a bite, surprised at how good the soup was.

"It is very tasty, did you make it?"

Hermione blushed at the compliment, pleased with the response.

"Thanks. I did make it, but I just had a recipe and the house elves kept an eye on me to make sure I didn't lose a finger."

"Well I am glad that you managed to make a very tasty soup without having to sacrifice a finger," she teased, taking another sip of the soup. "So whilst you know that I do cook sometimes, do you cook?"

Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

"Nope, I'm usually pretty hopeless at anything that doesn't involve toasting bread." She looked around exaggeratedly, lowering her voice as she crooked her finger at Fleur. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Fleur grinned as she nodded, enjoying the brunette's playful side.

"I'd read that this recipe was foolproof, which was the only reason I made it. Otherwise I'd worry about both of us, but safety still isn't guaranteed," she whispered melodramatically, lifting her eyebrows comically.

"Well in that case I applaud your recipe, and I will congratulate you tomorrow if I survive the night," giggled Fleur.

"Do you think you can face the very sophisticated main dish?"

"Oui. Although after you said you can only make toast, I'm worried as we've already had bread," the Frenchwoman teased, unable to pull her vision away from the sparkling brown eyes.

"Well I have to say that the house elves helped me with it, they walked me through it and I just tried to copy them, but unfortunately I don't have even an ounce of their talent, so apologies in advance for their presentation," Hermione blushed, suddenly wishing that she'd let the house elves make them. Using her body to shield the food from Fleur's vision, she heated the food before passing Fleur a plate, biting on her bottom lip in embarrassment.

Fleur stared at the misshapen semicircle of pastry, looking at Hermione in confusion.

"It's a Cornish pasty," she said weakly, answering Fleur's silent question.

"Ermmm…is it meant to be so irregular looking?" she asked, trying not to laugh at the brunette's expression.

"No, I was trying to crimp the edge to give it the classic look, but well…I'm not sure what happened. I'm sorry, you deserve a proper dinner after the one you made me-"

"I love that you did this for me and I'm sure that it tastes good 'ermione, besides, I rather like the way it looks…very…rustic," she said softly.

Hermione gave a short laugh, grateful for the attempt to make her feel better.

"Rustic…more like made by a child, but thank you."

"Come, we 'aven't even tried it yet, I'm sure that it is delicious, you managed to make lovely soup, so I 'ave faith in you yet…besides…if not, you'll always 'ave me to make sure you don't go 'ungry," smiled Fleur as she gave the brunette a sidelong glance.

Hermione froze for a second, wondering if the blonde knew what she was implying. Catching the glance, she held her eyes with her own; even in the flickering firelight, she could see the stormy calm in those blue eyes. And she knew that Fleur was well aware of what she implying, even if neither would be able to say it out loud just yet, neither willing to expose their vulnerabilities.

"Thank you in advance for never letting me starve to death, then," she replied quietly, as she maintained the gaze, her eyes promising everything.

Fleur tore her eyes away as she felt the sting of tears, as it dawned on her that Hermione had meant what she had said the other night. The thought of them being together was no longer a possibility, but something tangible. She had been so afraid that it wasn't real, that something would snatch her away again, that Hermione would change her mind, but that look in her eyes, they offered her the world. They offered her a future. And finally she could breathe.

She took a bite of the pasty to trying to disguise the fact that she was on the verge of tears, and was pleasantly surprised at the flavour. The pastry was too thick in places, but with the warm juices of the beef filling and the soft vegetables, it was delicious in its simplicity. And the knowledge that Hermione had made it especially for her made it taste that much better.

"C'est bonne!" she exclaimed, surprise evident in her voice.

Hermione looked her in surprise before taking a bite herself, relief flooding her face as she tasted it.

"I'm glad it's palatable at least, I wouldn't like you to have no energy from lack of food in case the iron men decide to attack," she smirked, enjoying the indignant look on Fleur's face, who couldn't reply with a mouthful of food.

Swallowing her food, the Frenchwoman looked at her imperiously, with narrowed eyes.

"If they do attack, I shall leave you to their mercy, then you will have wished you 'ad taken notice of my observations," she said, trying to sound as stern as possible, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"I suppose I could pelt them with the disfigured pasties that I made," she replied nonchalantly, causing Fleur to splutter on the water she was drinking as she laughed.

They finished off their pasties in comfortable silence, constantly catching the other's shy glances, wide smiles on both their faces.

* * *

><p>Hermione took out a couple of fine marker pens, passing one to Fleur.<p>

"Muggles are ingenious, these things are so much more convenient than having to carry around a bottle of ink and a quill," said Fleur, looking at the pen delightedly, not catching the soft gaze of adoration on Hermione's face.

"You can use that ingenious invention to write on this." Hermione passed a large, flattened, pale purple square to Fleur, who looked at her expectantly.

"Pull it apart from the top and bottom Fleur," she instructed, watching the blonde open out the lantern, unable to take her gaze from the blonde's face. The years hadn't changed the fact that seeing her breathtaking beauty in firelight made her heart clench painfully; watching the blonde's unguarded expression of joy, she knew that she would give anything to protect her from the world.

"I'm beginning to feel very ignorant, this is another thing that I do not know what it is," she said to Hermione, a lop sided grin on her face.

"I wanted to do something different for you, I figured you'd have been on plenty of magic dates with people from the magical community, but probably not many muggle dates," Hermione shrugged, a shy smile on her face.

"You're my first," she smirked in reply.

"It's a sky lantern. I thought you could write your wishes or dreams, or whatever you want onto the side and then…well…you'll see. And I'll do the same."

Fleur could only nod in reply, overwhelming touched at the idea, despite not completely understanding what a sky lantern was. Looking at the brunette, she could see that she was engrossed in writing something on her lantern and she sat back wondering what she was going to write.

When Hermione looked up, she could see the Frenchwoman writing slowly and carefully. She took out the rest of the lanterns from her bag, opening them up, readying them for lighting.

"Are you done?" she asked, seeing the blonde watching her.

"Oui."

"Then we can set them on their way." She took her wand, and lit the wick at the bottom of the lantern, keeping a firm hold of it as the flame grew stronger, illuminating the yellow paper. Finally, she let go and it slowly soared away, hearing Fleur's gasp.

Fleur couldn't take her eyes from it as she watched it travel higher; she never knew that something as simple as a lantern could be so beautiful. And then she spotted a red one slowly making its way into the darkness. And then a blue one. And soon the dark sky was littered with lanterns of differing colours. She tore her eyes from the sky and found the younger woman looking at her, a tender smile on her face.

"Thank you," was all she managed to say, feeling herself choking up with emotion. Hermione walked over, wrapping the blonde in her arms, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck before hugging her tightly, feeling the blonde reciprocate. They both stood there just holding each other, taking comfort in each other. Finally, Fleur pulled herself away slightly with a sniff, eyes still watering slightly. She slowly lit her lantern the way she had seen Hermione had and waited. When Fleur felt the lantern gently tugging at her hands, she let go, watching it slowly float upwards, and she felt her heart lift as it made its way into the ether, knowing her own dreams were following Hermione's.

She put her arm around the brunette's waist, pulling her in front of her, wrapping both arms around her waist, comfortably leaning her chin on Hermione's shoulder. Everything felt so damn right. Hermione sighed contentedly as she leaned back into the blonde's hold, feeling the smooth skin of her cheek against her own, placing her own hands over Fleur's. Both of them silently watched the lanterns lazily make their way into the night, bright splashes of colour against the dark. Just being together, hearing the crashing of the waves in front of them and the crackling of the fire nearby, no words were needed. What they had right now was enough. Actually, it was more than enough. It was a glimpse of what they could have.


	21. Chapter 21

They couldn't have spent that night apart. She finally understood how people would risk losing kingdoms and governments for the carnal cravings of the body. But there was no mistake here, she could never regret being here with this woman, would never wish she had a waited a moment longer. This felt so right, she belonged with her.

One kiss had led to another. It had been a blur, they'd been listening to the waves and then that kiss. That searing kiss that offered everything and promised more. And how they found themselves back here in the castle, she had no idea. She just remembered being pushed up against the door, a deep ache between her legs. A trail of clothes stretched from the living area to the bedroom, on the ground lay books and ornaments that had been knocked from their places as they had crashed into tables, desks, cupboards, not caring, not noticing, too engrossed in each other.

She found herself willing the sun not to rise, right now she wouldn't care if she never saw sunlight again, she didn't want this night to end. Moonlight flooded her bedroom, casting their shadows against the wall, against the floor. She watched their shadows play, two figures melding into one writhing mass. She was slowly losing sense of where she began and where she ended, that hot breath on her neck, that mouth which nipped and kissed, those hands that wandered over her body, that thigh that was between hers, pressing tauntingly. Those words uttered and gasped, whispered and repeated, she was struggling to differentiate who had said what.

"Don't stop..."

"I need you..."

"Never let me go..."

"Stay with me..."

"You belong to me…"

"Please…"

And that one phrase, whispered fervently, over and over until it littered the air and still it wasn't enough. Whispered against skin, against lips, into ears, into hair, she needed to hear it, they both needed to hear it, needed to say it, as if they said it enough maybe they could convey a fraction of how they felt.

"I love you."

Arching bodies, hands clutching desperately to flesh, tongues tasting skin and salt, damp skin and soaked cores; fingers trailed from hot mouths, stroking, groping, revering smooth bodies, rubbing, penetrating, slipping, sliding, tightness clenching around those fingers. This was not fucking. This was lovemaking, slowly and languidly, urgently and roughly, desperately and frantically, adoringly, paying homage to their lovers' bodies. Senses heightened, sharp teeth against vulnerable flesh, the beginning of bruises, the teetering precipice between pain and pleasure, bodies convulsing at the overwhelming of nerve endings, shivering at words whispered gutturally, interlinking fingers, drunk on the heady scent of arousal, the sting of nails marking backs, welts visible to the naked eye. They couldn't stop, their wanting never more than momentarily sated, wanting to immerse themselves in each other, needing each other, worshipping each other.

"Fleur…"

"'ermione…"

Names repeated, uttered, gasped, screamed, shuddered, mouthed, cried, softly spoken, whined, breathed. Trying to ingrain all the memories of each touch, each taste, each sound, neither willing to forget even the smallest of details.

Trying to dispel unwanted thoughts, not wanting to feel that pang of regret of how much time had been wasted, how they hadn't been able to track the subtle changes of flesh over time, not wanting to think about what they may have to face in the day, not wanting to think about what people would think, of how certain people would think.

No thoughts for anyone else, but each other, this night belonged to them.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Things have been quiet recently, that's my cue to make things for more interesting for you I think. I've been watching you and I see the way you look at her; and I'm more than happy to wait before I get to her. That happiness you feel when you're with her, you don't deserve that, not after what you did to me. I had what you had once, but you took that away from me, so it's only fair that you have the opportunity to experience what I felt. But not just yet. You ever seen someone you care about look to you for an answer that you just can't answer? Why am I being silly, it's you, of course you've had plenty of people look to you for answers that you can't answer. But unlike everyone else, I know why you can't answer. You can't answer because it'd be a lie, every word that would come out of your mouth would be a lie. I don't understand what happened, when did you become a liar, when did it become more acceptable for you to tell lies rather than truth? You used to be so honest, even when you probably shouldn't have been, so when did you change? Although quite frankly, I don't care when you became a liar or why you became a liar, you just shouldn't have used your lies to take away my pride, my dignity, my everything. So when she looks at you wanting an answer to a question that you can't answer, I want you to you feel that sense of uselessness, that sense of futility and know how it feels when everything is no longer in your control. When it's all in my control. You think that your life is finally making some sense, that maybe things are finally going to be the way you wished them to be, and that sense of contentment is what you want for the rest of your life. Well, I don't want you to get too comfortable. I hope you enjoy this as much as I will. **_


End file.
